The Pirate In The Doll
by Hack.Drawer
Summary: The Depression and his confusing 'thing' with Zoro, the neighbor next door, were situations Sanji could deal with. The doll with its ugly face and even uglier background would be an entirely different story. Slash, AU COMPLETE
1. Part One

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, AU

A/N: Another of my one-shots! Well, uh, actually, it's not a 'one' shot per se...it's actually a short story. CLOSE ENOUGH, DAMMIT. O.o Inspired by 'Prey', by Richard Matheson. Old school horror rox my sox. This story _does _contain citrus of double F hating kind, so go to my profile and click on the 'homepage' link for details.

The Pirate In The Doll:

Part One

It was one of those things that he'd seen as he was passing by—posed in a curio shop, just a block away from the open market place that he frequented. Loaded with fresh vegetables and wrapped packages of meat, Sanji would have never seen the doll if he hadn't fumbled with the basket he'd clumsily held in one hand. As he quickly crouched to pick up the dropped contents of his basket, he became eye level with the doll that was nestled within a treasure chest-style box; it stood upright, supported by a surrounding of other oddities that had never captured his eye before.

But there was something about that doll, its grotesque face with its hideous features staring right back at him, that drew him toward it. People continued on with their lives around him, forced to walk around his crouched frame. But it was as if time had stopped for him.

It was eight inches tall, stiff and possessing unmoveable limbs; its clothes were tattered and faded pieces of fabric, not entirely decipherable as separate pieces. There a band that seemed to squeeze its head from the eyebrows up with constricting force; its hair was wild and short, but it was stringy and obviously from an animal. Its face was pocked with tiny scars to represent a man's aging features, its mouth open with a menacing sneer. Around its neck was a melody of sparse feathers and fish bones, all strung together on a piece of twine.

Sanji wrinkled his nose, visible eye narrowing as he studied the doll's features. The eyes had long since faded, childish decoration leaving behind blackened spots within the orbits. The menacing mouth with its bared teeth seemed to widen upon his proximity. The hair on the back of his neck rose straight up, but even as he forced himself to stand, he couldn't help but feel appreciative of the cold chill that raced through his spine. Barely focusing on the task, he found himself locating the entrance into the curio shop and walking inside.

-

Zoro eyed it with disdain. The thing gave him the creeps. It was posed amongst Sanji's cook books and battered recipe books, sneering balefully at him while the blond man chopped and diced various ingredients atop of a worn wooden board. The shelves that had been carefully worked into the walls were parallel from the counter where Zoro was sitting. Across from him was the stove where Sanji was working, and from Zoro's profile, he could see the thing in his peripheral vision. It was a dominating object that drew his attention no matter how he was positioned. For nearly half an hour now, Zoro had adjusted himself in the stool he sat on, trying to find a position where he could somehow place the thing out of his sight. But even when he kept his back to the thing, he could feel something burning into the back of his neck, and that was uncomfortable enough to not keep his back to it for very long.

Bringing the bottle of whiskey to his lips, Zoro glared at it, feeling as if the thing was actively watching his every movement. As if the thing could actually think...could actually see...

Sanji looked up as he scooped garlic and onion with his palm and blade, dumping it into heated oil. Seeing Zoro's glare, he followed the other's sight to his most recent purchase and gave it a nod. As he stirred the contents within the skillet, he said cryptically, "It's almost as if it's looking right at you. Like it actually knows what you're doing."

"Creepiest thing I've ever seen," Zoro muttered, pausing to swig and swish, contemplating the doll's tattered clothing. "Why is it here?"

"It looks neat."

Zoro gave him an exasperated look, raising a booted foot to plop it atop of the stool next to him. Sanji stirred the cooking onion and garlic, the apartment filling with scent before wiping off the wooden board and turning to the sink to scale the strips of fish that he'd left in there minutes earlier. Satisfied with the product, he left the strips within the sink to return to the board, chopping up various herbs.

Zoro watched him for a few moments, then glared at the doll once again. His skin was crawling, and as he searched for any evidence that the doll was actively living, he heard Sanji snort.

"It's not alive, marimo," he muttered, stirring the onion and garlic once more before brushing the chopped herbs off the board and into the skillet. He began mixing the ingredients.

"I swear it's looking at me. It's planning my demise."

"It's a _doll_. A decorative piece of art."

"Your definition of 'art' is fucked up."

Sanji looked over at the doll once more, thinning his lips. The doll looked as it had in the window of the curio shop; lifeless and yet menacing. He couldn't help but shiver as he returned his attention to the meal he was making in front of him.

"It spruces up my kitchen," he declared, turning down the heat to the skillet. He began to slice the fish up carefully. His visible eye slid over to the doll that languished in its position between a couple of cookbooks. From his position, he could see the small details in its faded clothing; the stripes on its head warmer and the sleeves, the tiny fish bones that seemed almost like jail bars over its skinny frame. Its hair was dull and stringy, yet it sprout up from its scarred head like a bush.

And even through the smells of the herbs and vegetables were strong, he could still smell the musky, slightly iron scent of the doll. It made his cheek twitch slightly, but he figured the scent would eventually dissipate with some time.

Zoro frowned, and tipped the bottle once more, leaning on the counter and feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise straight up as he did so. He decided that he'd paid enough attention to the thing, and thought that if he ignored it, it would somehow disappear.

His eyes cast around every familiar object in Sanji's apartment. The blond man and his culinary skills were more important than the plain, tidy arrangement within the cramped quarters. It was large enough only for a counter, small stove, smaller icebox, a large bookshelf, and a small table that held aloft a radio and record player. There was a family of six on the other side of the wall to their left, and they could hear the loud tromping of feet in the hallway stairway. The radio was playing jazz, occasionally interrupted by the latest war updates. There were paper dividers that kept him from peering into Sanji's bedspace; there were toiletries stacked neatly near the doorway, where Sanji had quick and easy access to them in case he needed to visit the shared toilets down the hall. A narrow door closed off an even narrower closet space.

He looked over at his neighbor. For a moment, he took in the faded linen shirt, the limp blond hair and the color stains on his fingertips. During the day, the other worked as assistant chef in a fine restaurant; at night, he cooked for Zoro. Zoro's 'payment' for free meals was sex. Despite their prickly personalities, they happened to click just right where both contributions become something more than just an understanding. It was a fine arrangement, and Zoro still counted himself lucky for it. "Where'd you find it?"

"On West Main. The curio shop."

"...What's a 'curio'?"

"If you have to ask, never mind."

Zoro scrunched up his forehead. He tried to picture what a 'curio' meant, but that took too much effort. He rubbed his forehead with a dirtied thumb, trying to picture a shop that sold weird and menacing things. Then he had to wonder why anybody would sell such a thing.

As Sanji cooked the fish, he had to smirk. He looked over at his neighbor, who was still dressed in his work clothes; stained and dirty shirts, battered Levi's, boots with loosened ties. He could smell Zoro's sweat and the smell of metal and cement. As a high rise ironworker, Zoro was one of the insanely brave men that faced dizzying heights and death just to survive in a city that continued to expand.

To think that a man that braved the dangers of skeleton frameworks of high rise buildings was afraid of a simple doll made him amused.

"The background's simple," he started, watching the fish cook. "It was found recently in the owner's father's possessions. His father had claimed he'd inherited it from _his _father's father; the doll is actually a prison of a pirate from the early 1880's. A cruel and murderous pirate that had been punished a lifetime of imprisonment within a child's toy for his crimes. The toy belonged to his last victim. The owner mentioned that, after the pirate's soul was imprisoned within the toy through some primitive voodoo fashion, the toy slowly began to resemble the pirate himself."

Zoro eyed the doll with distaste.

Sanji shrugged, flipping the fish over. Eyeing the doll once more, he gave a shrewd expression. "The necklace is supposed to keep the spirit inside the thing."

Zoro snorted, swishing the whiskey around in the bottle. "A bunch of fishbones and freaky colored feathers keeps a spirit stuck inside some kid's toy? You got ripped off, man."

"It's a true story. I totally believe in it," Sanji said with a half grin, enjoying Zoro's skepticism in the entire thing.

"You would. Only idiots would be into cheap voodoo stories and shit like that."

"Don't tell me you don't," Sanji said, playing up his mock disbelief.

Zoro scoffed, knowing that Sanji was only playing with him. "Idiot."

With his free hand, Sanji reached over for the hand rolled cigarette that smoldered slowly within the ashtray. He took a drag of cheap tobacco, and wondered if he was going to be able to sneak in finer quality with his next paycheck. But with the Depression and the war going on, it was going to be hard to find such things while continuing to struggle to keep the things he already had. He was lucky to work in a restaurant; at least he got to bring some things home with him, the owner allowing his employees that small favor. Exhaling slowly, he rolled his shoulders and thought over the owner's words. While he felt a little tingle in the story, seeing that the owner himself displayed discomfort and unease while handling the doll within its treasure chest-style coffin, he didn't really believe in such things.

He carefully stamped out the cigarette, saving it for later.

"The toy was said to be responsible for...'malicious' hauntings wherever it was stored," he then continued. "Whatever the fuck that meant."

"If it's spirit is trapped by weak-ass fishbones, then how could it 'haunt' things?" Zoro asked in exasperation.

"Shadows at your bedside, things moving...shit like that."

Zoro scoffed again, but he had to toss an uneasy glance over at the doll. If possible, there was a sense of awareness in the air; as if the two men weren't the only two in the room. But he had to toss that sensation aside, because they were living in an apartment building where the rooms were cramped together and families, Americans and immigrants, were able to hear, smell and know what the other tenant was up to through the thin walls.

"But you don't believe in that sorta bullshit, do ya?" Sanji asked, smirking over in Zoro's direction. "You're not scared of a _toy_, are you?"

Zoro snorted, puffing out his chest and shifting in the stool. "_Voodoo_. Hell, like I'd be afraid of some fucking _doll_."

-

After dinner had been served and enjoyed, Zoro sat at the counter to finish off his drink, giving the doll suspicious looks from time to time. Sanji had finished cleaning up his cramped kitchen and was on his way to the incinerator; giving Zoro plenty of alone time with the creepy thing that continued to stare at him from its position on the shelf. Zoro narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips; blackened eyes seemed to glare right back at him as seconds passed.

If it were possible, that menacing sneer grew slightly larger. Green hairs standing up on his forearms, Zoro found it entirely exasperating that he'd continue to allow himself to be somewhat threatened by some deranged toy. He left the stool and snatched the doll from the shelf, finding it somewhat heavier than it looked. Immediately, the fishbone necklace that it wore pricked his fingers, and he swore viciously, dropping the doll as stinging pain shot up his fingertips.

He caught the doll in mid-air, pricked his fingers again, and ripped the cheap jewelry off the doll with an annoyed snarl. Instantly, the shift in the air made his skin ripple. Staring uneasily at the grotesque features, Zoro found himself paralyzed in place, vision slightly greying as he found himself staring into the blackened orbs where the eyes were located. His fingers were blackened by soot. The tattered pieces of the doll's clothing was raspy and irritating; the weight was bothersome.

He suddenly jolted when he realized he was hearing Sanji's footsteps coming back to the apartment, and he set the doll back up on the shelf. When he realized he was still holding the necklace in the other hand, he tossed that in the general direction of the doll. It hit the books that held the doll in place, and slid from the wooden surface of the shelf to fall toward the floor; behind a pair of potted plants.

-

Skin rubbed against sweaty skin; hands moved needily over familiar areas. Though they could both hear people moving up and down the hall and the six member family on the other side of the room, both men made quiet and appreciative noises over every movement made and every hasty and needy action.

Zoro was fully focused on the other; on the way his hands slid over both their exposed erections, pumping strongly and quick. He could smell the musk of Sanji's sweat and body; the smell of his pungent breath that he puffed in small, excited pants. Sanji's long, lean legs were bent over his own; they sat facing each other, where they could easily reach out and touch and pull and tug while mouths met and tasted. Zoro's rough, calloused hands moved over Sanji's hips, underneath the loose fitting shirt that he'd kept on. As he stroked up heaving rib bones, thumbs questing over heated flesh, he felt Sanji shift closer to him. He stopped stroking over both their erections, Zoro wincing at the loss of his hands, lifting his hips slightly to slide his slick cock against Sanji's, needing more friction. He lowered his hands to take over where Sanji had left off, wrapping his fingers around his dick and Sanji's, squeezing them together and wringing a soft moan from the blond man.

Sanji's hands were slick and warm as they quested over Zoro's exposed arms, brushing against the worn and slightly stained undershirt that he'd kept on. His fingertips roughly appreciated the muscle that was there. Zoro liked the feel of Sanji's touches on his muscle-hardened arms; not that Sanji's hands were delicate and soft, but they were just as demanding and rough as his own touches were.

Zoro slowed his pumping, taking the time to slowly tighten and loosen his grip around their dicks, twisting his wrist slightly with each stroke. Sanji's mouth moved over his, his tongue swiping over Zoro's bottom lip, then questing inside to stroke over his teeth, his gums. Zoro caught his tongue with a gentle press of his teeth, pausing in his stoking to devote some time to press his lips against Sanji's. Releasing the muscle, Zoro followed his tongue back into his own mouth, tasting tobacco and musk, Sanji's nose bumping against his as the blond man shifted into the kiss. Sanji's hands moved up to ensnare chunks of his green hair, keeping Zoro close as the man grunted at the slight flash of pain in his scalp.

The wet sounds of their kisses were noisy and consuming, bodies shifting restlessly as Zoro forgot how to do two things at once, his grip tightening over both their dicks until Sanji pulled his head back to give a warning thump to the shoulder. Zoro released them both, pushing into Sanji until the blond's back touched the mattress of his bed, shifting until he could wrap his legs around Zoro's waist and the other could push his shirt up around his armpits so that he could lavish attention onto hardened nipples.

Sanji once more ensnared his hair, arching up into the rough mouthing, Zoro grunting as pain caused his scalp to tingle once more. He pulled himself out of Sanji's grasp with a murmur, Sanji chuckling softly before tugging his ear, pulling him back so that their mouths met once again. Zoro shifted atop of Sanji, his hands moving up his slender body until his fingertips brushed against soft tufts of hair. He tugged hard enough for Sanji to rip his mouth from his and shift to kick his heels against the back of Zoro's thighs.

"Knock that shit off. That hurts!"

"Don't pull my hair, then."

"Stop pretending you don't like it."

"If I liked that shit, I wouldn't be laying the law like I am right now."

"Oh, fuck you..." But Sanji trailed off and grunted at the feel of Zoro's dick sliding against his, his hips lifting in response. He could feel himself growing more desperate for contact as Zoro moved above him, his mouth moving over Sanji's exposed neck and collarbone. He squirmed underneath him to clutch at his shoulders, moving in response to the way Zoro's dick slid against his.

Feeling Zoro's breath against his heated skin, the way the other man's weight ground into his, Sanji lost himself in the moment. His fingers tightened on Zoro's shoulders, the bed squeaking with their frantic movements. He had just started to feel the familiar tingle and heat of his balls tightening, Zoro's grunting growing stronger with each thrust when a tremendously loud cacophony of sound had both of them startling in response.

Over the kitchen counter, cookbooks spilled every which way. Dishes were knocked to the floor, and the drying rack was overturned, contents hitting the floor with another rise of sound.

Both men were quick to disentangle, Zoro reaching out to swipe the separator aside so that they could look into the kitchen's direction. Seeing the mess, Sanji winced, pulling his shirt down and adjusting it. It was as if they'd both been doused with cold, freezing water, and the effect was painful. As he stood, Zoro pulled his pants and underwear on, giving the mess a disbelieving look. He saw that the book shelves had fallen down—that the resulting spill was the cause of the drying rack to fall from the counter. But, quite honestly, it had made too much of a mess.

And while his heart was thundering with startled excitement, there was something at the back of his mind that whispered for his attention.

"Aw, fuck," Sanji muttered, taking in the same mess. "My shelves! What the hell?"

Zoro poked around the fallen books. Then he straightened to give the other man a smirk. "Maybe it was your toy."

Sanji rolled his eyes, and heaved a sigh. "Or a shit-ass job. Damn. Look at my walls. What the fuck."

Zoro noted the clock, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I've gotta go."

Sanji frowned at him, adjusting his pants. But he said nothing, giving his kitchen a look of aversion as Zoro left him in silence. Walking over, he began picking up his books, setting them in neat piles on the floor. He tried to straighten his plants, stems broken from the fallen books, and then gave up on the effort. He came across the feather and fishbone necklace, frowning at it for a few moments. Twirling it clumsily around one finger, he walked around the counter to pick up books and dishes, grimacing as he set the necklace aside to clean up.

Later that night, Sanji found himself blinking rapidly, rousing himself out of sleep. Every hair was standing on end, his skin crawling with ice. He shivered, drawing his blanket tightly around him, smelling Zoro on them. He closed his eyes once more, inhaling slightly at the familiar scent and thinking of the green haired man that was just right on the other side of the wall. The sounds of the city was dull and muted—a boat horn sounded in the distance. The phone rang down the hall. Someone was coughing.

Sanji shivered once more. His bed squeaked as he squirmed for some warmth, pulling his legs up and pressing his head harder into the pillow. Something creaked, and he dismissed it as a neighbor's early a.m. wandering on the other side of the wall. But then the sound came again; a scuff of feet against cheap tile. The bump of shoe against counter.

He opened his eyes, blinking to adjust them to the darkness. The paper divider blocked his view into the kitchen area, but the sensation of not being alone crept over him. Someone in the hall was stumbling against the walls, and he listened to that while he strained for anything other than the scrapes and bumps in his kitchen. More hacking coughs, another boat horn.

Sanji had just resigned himself to try for more sleep when a skillet on the counter scraped against the wood, then hit the kitchen floor with a loud thud that made every one of his muscles and limbs jerk violently. He sat up and was off the bed within moments, sweeping the divider aside to look into the kitchen area. The skillet rolled once before settled heavily within the center of his apartment. Sanji gave it an incredulous stare, then looked back at the counter where it had rested hours earlier. He was absolutely bewildered in how the heavy piece of metal had fallen when it had been resting upside down in the corner of the counter space.

It was absolutely freezing in the apartment. He shivered violently, lifting his hands to rub at his own arms. The darkness wasn't so thick that he couldn't see a thing—the lights outside provided him with plenty of ability to see that his apartment was empty. The closet was closed; there was no way anybody could hide there without him seeing. The stacks of cookbooks were still where they had been left. His brow furrowed with bewilderment.

He brushed his hair out of his face, giving another sweep of examination to his apartment. As he became settled, he realized that he was listening to a steady inhale and exhaling sound that was reminiscent of breathing. He stilled, holding his own, hearing the steady sound. His skin crawled at the fierce sensation of being watched—anxiety flit through him for a moment before his mouth tightened, and he reached over to pull on the lamp nearby.

Light bloomed immediately, and yet as he straightened, the breathing stopped. There was no one there. His long toes curled into the tile, tendons flexing as he set one upon the other in an effort to warm them. He looked at the only timepiece he had in his apartment; the wind-up clock that was nestled between foreign cookbooks in the bookshelf. It read thirteen after eleven. Frowning with uncertainty, Sanji ventured into the kitchen area and picked up the skillet, replacing it back into the corner it had sat on earlier.

He scanned the stacked books, glanced around the counter, then ventured back to his bed space. He jumped high when the loud thud and clatter alerted him to the skillet that once more hit the floor. Spinning, he registered his heart in his throat and his muscles tensing, watching it settle within the center of the kitchen floor. His visible eye widened with surprise and uncertainty as his mind refused to accept that it was there, despite the fact that he was seeing it. He glanced around once more, unsure of how it happened. Maybe he'd set it too close to the edge; no, he knew he'd set it purposefully, upside down, in the corner of the counter.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Sanji ventured forward and once more placed the skillet back into the corner of the counter. He then took a few steps back, watching it without blinking. The skillet didn't move. Once he hit the paper separator, he absently reached back and steadied it, taking a moment to glance back at his effort before jerking around to face the kitchen once more.

Silence reigned. He waited for movement, strained for any sounds, for any telltale intruder, but there just wasn't a way possible someone was in his apartment with him.

He suddenly jerked, searching the area for the doll. Despite his own common sense, he found himself desperate to have the thing in sight. To physically know that it was still where he'd left it; but then again, it had been sitting on the shelf within his books, and then the shelves had fallen...

He rushed over to the counter, snatching at the feather and fishbone necklace that he'd left there. Suddenly he remembered that he didn't even remember seeing the doll when he'd been straightening his books. Frowning, he groped the counter for it, looking behind containers and pots, and systematically searching through the squeaky drawers. He rushed around the counter, shoving aside his books and the potted plants and coming up with nothing.

Heart pounding, hearing the owner's voice continuously repeat the circumstances surrounding the doll, Sanji sat back on his heels and tried to think. Maybe he'd moved it—maybe—then he gave a start, sucking in a breath. Zoro had expressed such an aversion to it, maybe the green-haired iron-worker somehow snuck away with it.

That made him feel a little better. While the creepy sensation of having the doll somehow haunt his apartment never left him, it did soothe away a little of the panic that fluttered around his stomach. He gave a nervous chuckle, slowly rising from the floor. With one last glance at the heavy iron skillet, Sanji walked over to the lamp and shut it off before maneuvering away to his bed. Once settled, he exhaled heavily, aware of how tense and jittery he felt after all that exploration.

He'd just closed his eyes when he became aware of breathing. The sensation of someone standing much too close to him sent his skin crawling, and his eyes opened once more, focusing immediately on the darkness next to his bed.

For a moment he didn't register it, until he realized he could see the outline of a head and shoulders. The breathing noises were louder then—Sanji sat up, curses coming to his mouth, his mind wanting to believe that perhaps Zoro was fucking around with him. But before he could say anything, the form simply melted away; a shadow disappearing among many within his apartment.

Sanji sat utterly still and tense, blinking rapidly. Unsure if he'd even seen what he had.

-

The shorter hand had just touched up two, the longer hand touching on twelve almost at the exact same time. The apartment was silent, dark. Sanji slept peacefully atop of his blankets, drool wetting upon the pillow he had folded up below his head. The cramped area was still; yet through the thin walls, activity of other tenants in their late-night activities were audible. A baby cried incessantly down the hall, and drunkards screamed at each other. In the next apartment over, a child cried for their mother.

In his dreams, Sanji could see himself sleeping. But it was in another time, in another place. As dreams worked, details weren't very clear. The bed he laid in was massive—the sheets covering him looked expensive. He could hear the steady sound of waves crashing against the shore; the salty air was strong and forceful. Birds called. But as he slept he became aware of a sound—the continuous action of someone walking up a massive, empty hall.

In his dream, Sanji could see his own face twisting with distress, waking quickly with a start. He could see himself start to sweat, and could hear his breath grow quick and strong. The footsteps continued, nearing the room. Only he couldn't see the details of the room, nor could he even fathom what it was that had his dream self so startled. Before he could even think to question what the reason was for this particular dream, Sanji himself awoke with a start.

For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. He could still smell the salty, wet air, and could hear the 'gulls crying out. But as he grew coherent, he grew aware that he was in his world; the world were the walls were thin and the radio was constant with Depression and war topics. He blinked away the remnants of the dream and exhaled slowly. Growing accustomed to the familiar night and the unfamiliar hour, Sanji stared up at the darkness. He pulled the blanket back up his body and had just settled onto his side when he realized he could hear those very same footsteps from his dream just outside of the paper divider. He gave a slight start, hearing heavy boots tromp over the worn floor. It was so _close_...it was so loud...it was definitely not coming from the outside hall.

Panic assailed him for a brief moment before he swept the blanket aside and rose from his bed, sweeping the divider away from him once more. As he did so, the footsteps stopped with abrupt action. And once again that night, Sanji found himself staring at nothing.

As his heart rate slowly returned to normal, he realized he could hear that breathing again. It was starting to bother him how these things were happening, and there wasn't an explanation or show to explain any of it. His skin crawled with the sensation of being watched. Of unseen eyes burning through him, taking in every inch of him. Despite himself, his skin crawled once more, and he struggled to control his rising impatience and frustration that he was awake once more during these crazy hours.

He focused on the breathing. His visible eye turned to the door, taking in the light that crept in through the narrow slot at the bottom. Maybe there was somebody outside, playing games with him. Some foreigner, or nutcase that decided to pick on Sanji for some reason or another.

But his mind discarded that thought. Once more, he thought of the doll. In disgust, he swiped at his face with shaking fingers and turned, walking back to his bed. He pulled the divider up and set it straight, then sank onto his bed with a heavy sigh. The blanket was pulled up to his chin, and he settled comfortably once more. He thought of Zoro, hearing his snores through the thin wall behind him. Sanji could still smell the iron-worker; his musky sweat that was both familiar and comforting to him. His skin rippled with the sensation of remembering Zoro's rough hands on him; he could still taste the man in his mouth.

They had a comfortable agreement; and though it started only out of understanding for needs, somehow it had grown into something else. Because every night Sanji returned home after a long day's work, just the thought of being able to relax around the other man made him feel as if he'd accomplished something. Zoro was a familiar constant in his life, and though Sanji wasn't sure what to make of his feelings for the other man, he was quite sure that he didn't want to go without that constant for any reason.

He wished that they had finished what had been started earlier. Just thinking about their activities caused him to harden. Squirming, he forced himself onto his belly, the sensation of his hard-on against mattress both pleasurable and uncomfortable. Soon, his erection left and he resettled back onto his side. He was just about to fall back asleep when the icy cold sensation of fingers against his ear made him jerk upright.

His hand slapped at his ear, even as his mind raced with the possibilities of either rats or spiders. The prickly sensation had his skin rippling, and he frantically swiped at his bed in case he came into contact with the mystery object once more. His hairs were standing on end, and even as Sanji relaxed upon knowing that there was nothing on his bed, he couldn't help but feel entirely apprehensive. He stared out into the dim darkness, the lights of the city filtering in through the window. He glared in the direction of the clock—why couldn't he just go back to sleep?

Huffing, Sanji threw himself on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The baby had finally stopped crying. Someone was thumping on something below his floor.

Blearily, Sanji reached up to nudge his own ear, wondering what it was that he'd felt. He was quite sure of contact—there was no question about it. He had been touched; but by what? Absently, he touched the curly oddity of his exposed eyebrow, closing his eyes as he tried to relax himself for sleep once more. He felt obscenely tired; unaccustomed to waking up in the middle of the night to weird noises and situations. Dropping his hand onto his chest, Sanji took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. The thought of rolling up a cigarette to smoke became suddenly piercing, but he had only to think of the diminishing supply of tobacco before nixing the urge.

With another heavy sigh, Sanji tried to fall back asleep.

-

He awoke what felt like seconds later, breath coming in sharply as restless dreams disappeared and the sensation of having another person on his bed penetrated his sleepy mind. There, at his feet, was a dip in weight at the end of his mattress. He could feel the hairs just above his ankle being disturbed, skin stroked by calloused fingertips.

As he blinked heavy eyelids and once more grew accustomed to the darkness and late hour, Sanji at first thought it was Zoro. Sometimes when the marimo spent the night, he'd awaken the blond in this manner. Caressing a limb, a digit until he realized that Sanji was awake, then administering a slap or punch of some sort that made Sanji cranky. As if Zoro were embarrassed by his own affections.

But it wasn't Zoro. Because it was one-thirty in the morning, and someone was touching him. Seeing the hulking shape at the end of his bed, Sanji could make out that the man (because no woman could have such rough hands, he was sure of it) was around his height. Hunched at the shoulders, thin—and he wore what looked to be dark material of clothing.

Sanji's skin rippled with repulsion and fear, jerking his foot out of the man's grasp and uttering a curse at the same time.

"What the fuck?!" he snarled, kicking out as soon as he escaped the man's touch. But his foot swiped only through air. His eyes were playing illusions on him. He rolled and fell out of bed with a loud thud, knocking over the paper divider. The breathing began again, the piercing feeling of being watched sending his skin into a clammy shudder. Sanji crawled over to the lamp and turned it on for the second time that night, seeing that there was absolutely no one in the room.

He was going crazy. He had to be. But his skin could still _feel _that unfamiliar touch! He could still _see _that man sitting at the edge of his bed! He could—! And that breathing, he could still hear someone breathing in that steady, patient manner while his very own skin crawled with the sensation of being watched!

Sanji grit his teeth. He curled his fists. He stared at the edge of his bed, where he could clearly see the indentations of weight there, where someone had been sitting earlier. Again, Sanji frantically searched his apartment for the sly intruder. And again he found nobody. This time, he unlocked his front door and glared up and down the hallway. The dingy area yielded him no possible suspects. Every door was shut firmly. Someone's radio was on. Someone was coughing.

He could hear traffic outside the apartment—of beggers on the street. Sanji shut the door firmly, locking it. Then he tried opening it, but the locks held strong. Glaring at the chain link that danced lightly against the wood, Sanji then rubbed at his eyes and wondered if the fish he'd cooked was bad. He fumbled with the toiletries that sat nearby, and aimlessly rifled through them just to have something to do. But his body wasn't signaling its upset. His mind was racing, though. Over possibilities, thoughts, bewilderment—he thought of the doll and stiffened.

But as his lips curled into a sneer, he turned and scanned the apartment. The owner was just selling his wares, was all. He had sold Sanji a story and a doll. There were no such things as ghosts and hauntings and murderous pirates trapped inside some child's toy. There was absolutely no such thing.

Sanji left his door and slowly shuffled back to his bed. Instead of picking up the paper divider, he merely set it aside so that it rested against the wall. He left the lamp on. Despite himself, he felt a chill run through him as he settled once more onto his side, forgoing the blanket. Sanji stared at the faded wallpaper on the wall and listened to Zoro snoring on the other side. Somehow, despite the cold feeling of dread that crept up his spine, he went back to sleep.

-

He opened his eyes. Books were moving. Pages fluttering. From his position on his side, he could see them on the kitchen counter. Pages moving noisily as they were turned by unseen hands. For a moment, Sanji wasn't sure that what he was seeing was real. True. He laid there, blond hair obstructing most of his vision, hearing the very distinct sound of paper being disturbed. When one book shut, another was open.

Sanji shot up into a sitting position, and the action stopped. The light in the apartment told him the same thing it'd told him hours earlier. There was no one there.

Yet as his eyes adjusted, he saw that books had been spread all throughout his apartment. Some were left open; some were closed and stacked. He felt his skin grow cold and clammy as he observed this. How could he have not heard anybody come into his apartment and do this? He saw that the locks were still in place. There was no where to hide! Where was this person coming from? Why was this happening?!

Sanji wasn't sure what to feel or think at that moment; he stared blankly at the array of books that covered his kitchen floor and that near the bed. He was vaguely surprised that he had so many books. French, Italian, Mexican, Asian—all his foreign and domestic cookbooks had been violated by some unseen hand.

He licked his lips once more, and decided to lay back down. He didn't see the point of straightening up the area if he didn't even know how it had happened in the first place. The silence in his apartment was deafening. He himself felt violated by the unseen, and in a moment of self-consciousness and doubt, he reached up to tighten the collar of his shirt. He fell asleep only out of exhaustion.

-

The next morning, the telltale cast of sunlight bathed his freezing apartment with life. Sanji woke blearily, his eyelids heavy and his mind sluggish. For a moment he allowed himself to adjust to the light, the sound of his clock ticking away within the immense stillness; he heard everyone around him getting up and moving around, the sounds of the city awakening just as noisily outside the apartment walls. Kids jumped and shouted and protested; men called out to one another, women yapped.

Sanji wasn't sure if what had happened to him all night had happened at all. His eyes scanned the apartment floor, and saw that his books were still lying all around. Yet the stacks on the kitchen counter were higher—sometime after he'd fallen asleep, whomever was sneaking around him had finished looking through them and had stacked them high.

Sanji started to move when he realized that the blanket that he'd kicked off sometime during the night was tucked tightly around him. So tightly that he couldn't even move his arms to escape. Panic assailed him as he struggled to get up—as he hit the floor for the second time, the blanket cascaded around him like a warm caress. He pulled on his own hair in a scramble to yank the material off of him.

Things were different in the daylight—they weren't as threatening. As menacing. He strained his ears to hear that breathing, for telltale footsteps, but heard nothing but the tenants around him. Swallowing tightly, Sanji glanced over at the clock, realized he was late, and scrambled to get ready for the day.


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, AU

A/N: Another citrusy scene. Edited for here. :) That's how it works. Booyah! Thanks to SilverHowler for the review!

Pirate In The Doll:

Part Two

The day was shot—he scrambled all day to correct his mistakes, to keep up with the demanding work load. The head chef had given him a good kicking from time to time, bellowing his displeasure to Sanji's efforts, and the other cooks had been less than subtle about rubbing his mistakes in his face. He'd mixed up two lunch orders for impossibly rich clients and had added too many spices to one dish that had the man complaining. He hadn't cooked a particular dish long enough; he sliced his own fingers while chopping up vegetables; everything that could go wrong went.

By the time he stumbled into his apartment later that night, Sanji wanted nothing more than to go to bed. To prepare himself for a better day tomorrow. He'd just kicked off his heavy shoes and jerked off his tie when Zoro walked in, looking just as exhausted as he. Sanji didn't feel like cooking, but at the same time, he didn't want to send the other off because just seeing Zoro made his spirits lift a little. He needed somebody to vent on, and Zoro was a good victim because he never allowed Sanji to bitch at him without bitching right back.

"I've had a shitty day, marimo," he warned, sinking onto the edge of his bed while he massaged his aching feet. Zoro looked up from the books that still lay spread throughout the kitchen floor to look at him. "Anything I make will taste like shit."

"What was with all the noise last night?" Zoro then complained, disappointed as he realized that Sanji wasn't about to cook. He kicked aside a stack of books. Sanji felt momentarily guilty. He knew Zoro risked everything on those damn high rises. He wanted to get up and at least make something, but with the way things went today, he was afraid in actually making the other sick. So this conflict of feeling only made Sanji even more frustrated.

A pout worked across Zoro's features, and Sanji could tell the other had cleaned up before coming over—though there was blackened streaks in his green hair near his right temple. "Still whining about your damn shitty shelves?"

Sanji wasn't sure whether or not to tell Zoro about the oddities that had happened. Zoro might make fun of him. He scowled at the green haired man. "None of your nosy-ass business. I'm surprised you even heard anything. That nose of yours emits some pretty shitty loud noises. Like a Goddamned..._thing _that makes Goddamned loud noises!"

Zoro waved his hands around. "Whooo...stop with the killer insults."

Sanji was frustrated with his predicament. Swiping his hair from his face, he then rested his elbows atop of his knees, glaring at the books on the floor. He could feel Zoro looking at him; it was odd how different Zoro's stare was from...whatever it was that was staring at him last night. It made his skin crawl for some reason.

"You look like shit," Zoro finally decided, grabbing a stool and sitting down. But the moment he did, one of the legs snapped with a loud crack, spilling him to the floor. Zoro gave a flabbergasted noise as he landed on his hands and knees, Sanji sitting up with a startled expression.

Both of them looked back at the broken stool, and Sanji cursed as he strode over.

Zoro shot up from the floor, glaring at the broken leg that lay on the floor while Sanji snatched up the stool. "Your place is falling apart," Zoro then snapped, rubbing his knee.

"Why are you breaking my shit?!"

"I'm not—! I _didn't_! I just sat on the fucking thing, and it broke!"

Sanji hit him with the stool, then tossed it at his door. Zoro rubbed his arm, giving him an annoyed look while the stool slammed against the battered wood and broke on its descent to the floor.

As his eyes swiped over the stacks of books on his counter, Sanji caught sight of the necklace. He picked it up and held it at Zoro, making it dance as he demanded, "And where the hell is my _art_, asshole? I can't find it!"

Zoro pushed the necklace away of his face. "I don't know! Why are you asking me that? Maybe it got up and ran away," he then said with a sneer, making his right index and middle fingers 'run'.

"Fucking idiot. Who believes in that shit?" Sanji snapped, throwing the necklace at him. "I want it back, marimo. I mean it."

"I didn't do anything with it!"

"Then where the hell is it?!"

"I just told you what might've—!"

"Shut up with that bullshit! It was just a stupid story! I know you're fucking around with me, and it isn't funny, Zoro!"

Zoro's eyebrows lifted. Despite his irritation at being the focus of Sanji's odd bitchiness, he felt tickled at the sound of his name coming from the other. "Ooh. Must be extra special serious. You actually said my name."

Sanji felt his face heat, but he reasoned that it was only because he was growing angrier with the situation. He drew up a leg and drove the heel of his right foot against Zoro's left shoulder—an easy feat considering his flexibility, the man stumbling back before catching himself on the counter.

"Well, whatever, man. I didn't do anything with your new toy. Hell, what would _I _want with it? I'm telling you, it got up and ran away an' shit." Zoro held up the necklace. "See? It's been set free."

Sanji stared at him for a couple of moments, a small part of him wanting to believe the story and wanting to relate the eerie incidents of the night before as proof, but with the smirk Zoro was giving him and the situation in that he didn't believe in voodoo and black magic or whatever it was at hand convinced him otherwise.

He narrowed his visible eye. Zoro stopped smirking and looked ready to move.

"I...have a headache," Sanji then announced. Daring Zoro to say or do something about it.

Zoro rolled his eyes, but he tossed the necklace away. "Look: _fine_. I just want to make it clear, I didn't do anything with your stupid doll. Maybe you...dropped it somewhere. Or...accidentally tossed it when you incinerated stuff last night. Hell, I don't know. Maybe the owner tracked you down and took it back. Whatever it was, _I_ didn't do anything with it."

"I don't care about the fucking doll. Just—go away. Your idiot blather's making things worse," Sanji muttered, rubbing at his temple.

Zoro opened his mouth to say something, then snapped his teeth closed. He held his hands up, moving to the door. "You're not the only one who had a long day," he snapped. "You want to be shitty about things over some stupid toy, then take it out on someone that actually gives a shit."

Sanji kicked him on his way out the door, then kicked the door shut. Hearing the iron-worker mutter as he retreated back to his own apartment, Sanji glared at the door. He listened to the key working in the lock, the open and slamming of the door. He heard Zoro stomping around, muttering. It was ridiculous how thin the walls were.

Sanji turned and surveyed the mess in his apartment. Then he kicked the broken stool. Feeling frustrated and annoyed, Sanji then began to gather and stack his cookbooks back into a neat pile near his potted plants.

-

That night after his shower, Sanji returned to his apartment and realized something was off. Everything was still in place; the door had been locked. Yet, as he deposited his toiletries onto the small table, there was a feeling in the air that made him feel as if he weren't alone. As if there were someone nearby, watching him, waiting for him to fully enter and settle. Night had fallen, and though it wasn't late, he was feeling the effects of last night's oddities and wanted nothing more than to collapse on his bed and sleep.

He slowly closed and locked the door behind him, sliding the chain into place. Then turned and regarded the area cautiously, scanning the cramped living space for any indication of abnormality. Seeing nothing, he reached up to scratch absently at his ear. The heavy sensation of being near somebody made his skin prickle with goosebumps. He pulled at his night clothes with that strange sense of self-consciousness, feeling as if the material barrier was being stripped aside. The obscene sensation of knowing that he was being observed in such a way made him scowl at himself. His imagination, tripped by the stupid doll, was running off with him.

Rummaging through the cupboards in the kitchen, he found the pouch of tobacco and wrappers and proceeded to make himself a cigarette. Minutes later, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the heavy skillet that still sat where he'd last placed it. The smoke from his cigarette colored the air, scenting the area with the pungent scent. Sanji held it loosely between his lips, sitting back with his palms supporting his weight, toes unconsciously curling and clenching together atop of the hardwood floor.

He went over the actions of last night, wondering how it was all possible. He still hadn't found the doll. And he refused to think that Zoro was right. It was just ridiculous. Zoro was fucking around with his head for some reason, and Sanji wanted it all to stop. If this was Zoro's idea of humor, then Sanji wasn't getting it.

He pulled up a hand to carefully remove the smoldering cigarette from his mouth. He exhaled smoke from his nostrils and then studied the bright ember at the end. It hadn't taken more than a second; yet when he lifted his eyes to bring the cigarette back to his mouth, he nearly inhaled the entire thing down his throat. Because every drawer, cabinet door and container in his kitchen was currently open, exposing insides of various sorts.

Sanji rose from his position, coughing on both smoke and spit. He couldn't take his eyes away from the sight—just moments ago things had been normal. Nothing had been open. How could—? And how did—?

He stared at the open cabinets in incredulous design. He'd heard nothing. Seen nothing. He'd been looking at the kitchen just—! And he'd just looked down at his cigarette for less than a second—! There was no way—!

Utterly disturbed, Sanji hurriedly crossed the space between his bed space and the kitchen, and hastily closed everything. Then slowly backed away, not wanting to blink. He felt the mattress edge at the backs of his knees and sat. A child cried for their mother down the hall, and his skin prickled with goosebumps.

He shook his head, and then rubbed his eyes. There was an explanation. He was tired. Maybe he opened them earlier and forgotten about it. But why would he...? And what was he looking for...? And why...?

He lifted his head, but everything was still in place as they were moments before. He left his bed to carefully put his cigarette out, wanting to save it for later. Setting the tray aside, he glanced over at the wall, where, on the other side, Zoro was. Maybe.

Sanji licked his lips. He couldn't hear anything from that side. Maybe Zoro had left while Sanji was using the bathroom, heading out for a bar and cheap food. It made him a little pissed in recognizing the sensation of wanting to have the other near, or to _at least _know he was over there.

He went back to bed, resolving to leave the lamp on. Just in case. Crawling underneath the blankets, Sanji exhaled heavily, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. His eyelids were heavy.

The clock read five to ten.

-

Sanji's eyes shot open, a short gasp leaving him. There was a human form in black just leaving his bedside, heavy boots tromping on the floor as it strode past the paper divider and disappeared beyond the darkness of his bedspace. Despite the crazy jitter of his heart, Sanji sat up and wondered if he'd seen what he thought he did. His skin had broken out in goosebumps once more, and his ears were ringing with the sound of heavy boots upon floor—but he kept questioning himself.

Unblinking, Sanji stared at the darkness beyond the paper divider. _Zoro_. It had to be Zoro. The green haired iron-worker was still pissed at him for not cooking tonight.

Sanji shot off his bed and hurried over to turn on the lamp, jostling the record player and radio at the same instant. The apartment was empty. Clenching his teeth, Sanji twisted around, leapt onto his bed and kicked at the wall that separated his apartment from Zoro's.

"Marimo motherfucker!" he screamed, giving the wall one good kick. "Knock that shit off!"

Moments after he'd dropped his foot, he heard Zoro's answering reply. "_What the fuck_?!"

"Stop fucking around with me!" Sanji screamed back, uncaring that his shouting would wake the others around him.

"_What _the fuck?!" Zoro screamed back, but it sounded as if he were moving around.

The kitchen cabinets and drawers were open again. There was the faint trickle of water, and Sanji realized that the sink was on. He rushed over and twisted the handle, then glared at the open cabinets. He heard Zoro's door open and slam shut; his own rang with heated pounding moments later.

Hastily, he shut all the drawers and cabinets once more, and scurried around the counter. Without really thinking, he kicked the door, nearly losing his balance as he did so.

"I know it's you!"

"Let me in!"

"Fuck you!"

Sanji kicked his own door once more, Zoro pounding away at it. Flicking his hair from his face, Sanji looked over at the clock. It was ten after eleven. He gaped at it.

The chain rattled as Zoro tried to force his way in, snarling. Sanji jerked around, and fumbled with all the locks and the chain, letting Zoro in. But not without shoving at him once, the green haired man stumbling backward in surprise. But in reaction, Zoro shoved past him, looked around the apartment, then looked at him in incredulous frustration.

"What the hell's the matter with you?!" he roared. There were answering noises from the other apartment next door. A child started crying for their mother.

"I know it's you," Sanji snarled. But then he hesitated. Within a matter of seconds, from actually waking up to see the man walking away to kicking on Zoro's wall, he had to wonder if it really was Zoro at all.

Zoro swept his hands down his face. He looked pissed. "It's almost twelve! Why are you throwing a fit—a hissy woman fit at that—at fucking twelve o'clock?!"

"I know what time it is!" Sanji hissed, then drew himself back. There were sleep lines on the left side of the other man's face; drool dried at the corner of his mouth. "Er...were you...sleeping?"

"Actually, _yes_. I was. How did you know?"

Sanji narrowed his visible eye. "You lie. You lie with that green hair of yours!"

In exasperation, Zoro flung his arms out. "What the fuck?! C'mon!"

Sanji looked down at his feet, seeing his bare toes. The green hairs that splayed over every toe. _Hairy motherfucker_, he thought shrewdly. The man had been wearing heavy boots. He would have heard Zoro leaving the room with them, running down the hall, running into his room. He would have heard Zoro kicking them off. But he didn't. He didn't hear any of that.

Zoro eyed him undecidedly. Then he snorted. "Your stupid doll's fucking with you," he then muttered.

Sanji grit his teeth, eye slicing over to him. Zoro stiffened, tensing for action, then relaxed as Sanji stomped away from him. Tanned forehead furrowing, Zoro watched the other man rummage through his kitchen; drawing out packages of meat from the icebox, turning on the stove, slamming the cabinet doors for various items.

Zoro's face scrunched up with heavy incredulity as Sanji began to whip up a meal before his eyes. The iron-worker started to think that the blond was going insane. Sanji never acted this pissy and freaky before; not before that doll came along. Feeling drained and too tired to bother figuring out why Sanji decided to wake him up in the middle of the night for something he didn't even do—he didn't even know what he'd done, come to think of it—Zoro stretched and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?!" Sanji snarled from the kitchen, over the frying of meat.

"To bed. Some of us have actual jobs they need to go to in the morning," Zoro snapped back.

"Fuck you. Come back here and eat this shit so you can leave me alone!"

"I've done nothing to you!" Zoro exclaimed. But the smells caught him on the way out of the door. He hesitated, feeling his stomach rumble. Decision made, he gave a big show of grumbling about it before shutting the door and taking up space on the remaining stool nearby. "Fine. Since you're doing it anyway."

Sanji grit his teeth and sliced up potatoes with rather threatening flicks of his wrist. By the time he slapped a plate full of food in front of a yawning Zoro, it was nearly one. By the time the green haired man ate and left, it was nearly one-ten. Leaving the mess in the kitchen, Sanji stomped over to the door, locked up, then turned the lamp off. Resettling in bed, he angrily jerked the blanket around him and glared up at the darkness of the ceiling, certain he'd kill Zoro if he came back to the apartment to wake him up again.

-

The rustle of material and the tug on his clothes pulled Sanji out of a sound sleep. For a few moments he laid stiffly, blinking sleep heavy eyes as he felt his shirt collar pull tightly over his throat; as if his own hands were closing the slight gap. His mind was sluggish for a few moments; there was weight against his right side. The mattress had dipped. He could feel the heat and heaviness of a man sitting next to him, and could feel the rough fingertips on his skin, just below his collarbone.

He closed his eyes with a tired sigh, shifting to accommodate the weight on his bed, smoothing his night shirt back into place. "Zoro...lemme alone," he muttered, pushing at the man. "No wanna..."

"Not _Zoro_," came the angry hiss, something foreign and distinct and utterly chilling that Sanji was wide awake in moments, eyes opening wide as his mattress lifted upon the man shifting. Without truly assessing the situation, Sanji kicked and flailed madly, certain to at least catch the intruder that made his very bones ripple with unease.

His blanket fell to the floor, and he hit only air. He stumbled up and away from his bed, slammed past the paper divider and turned on the lamp—revealing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Struggling for calm and a clear head, Sanji stared at his empty apartment. His skin continued to ripple with fear and astonishment. His hands were shaking as he rested them atop of the table. Feeling absolutely flabbergasted with the lack of presence in his eyesight, Sanji wasn't sure what had happened to make him react in such a manner.

He reached up to cradle his head within both hands, eyes squeezing shut. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he was just—_dreaming_. And the dream had been so real and abrupt and—it had to be a dream. Because Sanji was damn sure he'd felt Zoro at his side; he'd felt the marimo's touches. He'd felt the weight on his bed. He'd heard the voice—

He lifted his head once more. '_Not Zoro_', it had said. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He'd heard the distinct words, the petulant annoyance. Without further investigation, Sanji dropped to his knees and looked under his bed. Under the very open space underneath the table he stood against. He clamored noisily to his narrow closet, jerked the door open, and wildly swept his few pieces of clothing aside. Then, just knowing that what he was doing was mad, he ran over to the kitchen and began opening and closing every drawer and cabinet door, searching for the intruder.

Panting lightly, Sanji straightened at his sink. He stared down at the drain, clutching the edges of the sink and feeling bewildered as he questioned himself. Was he going mad? Were his dreams so vivid?

The floor creaked around his bed, drawing him to jerk around to look over. There was nothing there. But a shadow passed by the table with the lamp, and not even a moment later, the light disappeared with a fizzle and snap that made Sanji jerk in reaction.

The apartment grew bone-chilling cold within a mere instant. His flesh trembled with the cold, and as he stood there in paralyzed reaction, Sanji could hear the heavy footfalls of booted feet within his own apartment. The floor under his own bare feet rumbled, and the breathing sounds had returned once more. Sanji's eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He caught the form of a man pacing the small space between his front door and the large book shelf. He could see where the moonlight reflected off the dark material of his clothing. He could see the bushy head.

Mutters began—heavy, angry mutters that made Sanji's blood run cold.

'Not Zoro', he was sure he heard. But he couldn't be certain. His brain was rushing with too many things to focus. He wasn't certain of his situation, but at the same time, it was all happening right before his eyes. He was hearing, seeing and feeling the entire thing—but yet it couldn't be happening because there was no such things as ghosts. Or—or whatever it was...

The bookshelf suddenly tipped, and Sanji could see it jerking forward, under suddenly invisible hands. Books tumbled loudly to the floor as the bookshelf followed with an obscenely loud rumble that made him cry out in surprise.

"_Not Zoro_!" came the distinct hiss.

Heart in his throat and lungs tight, Sanji simply stood there in paralyzed silence. Boots tromped once more, but there were the sounds of books being mashed underfoot. There was a heavy bang as the bookshelf received punishment from a solid kick. The sensation of being stared at made Sanji absolutely frantic as his body jolted and he found himself running and stumbling toward the door. His fingers shook as he fumbled with the chain and the multiple locks on his door.

His skin prickled with sensation as the heavy sound of boots on floor came stomping toward him; awareness of being watched and approached made panic hasten his actions. He felt breathing at the back of his neck and the sensation of having hands on his shoulders before he raced out into the hall. Jerking around, he saw his door slam shut, the entire hallway ringing with the slamming. People shifted in their cramped apartments all throughout the floor. Someone protested the loud noises in a foreign tongue. A child started to cry for its mother.

Sanji was breathing too heavily and in too much of a panic hazed fog before he realized that people were peering out of their apartments to look at him. The sights of frazzled faces and curious muttering prompted him to pry himself from the wall facing his door, his movements shaky and hesitant. Embarrassment over his actions and commotion caused his entire head to flush with heat. Instantly, he jerked his own door open and then cautiously stepped inside. The light was still out, there were books all over the floor, and the shelf was still tipped over. But the sensation of another presence was missing.

Quietly, Sanji shut his door. But he didn't lock it. Instead, he flattened himself against the surface and struggled to calm himself. He closed his eyes and strove to even out his breathing. Even as his skin broke out into a sweat, it was cold and prickled with goosebumps. Opening his eyes again, Sanji stared out at the darkness.

The clock read two-twenty.

-

'Sanji'.

The blond's eyes fluttered, but he was so tired that he didn't even want to respond to the sound of his name being uttered.

'Sanji.'

With a low growl, Sanji pulled his pillow over his head, drawing his blanket tight around him.

'What the fuck. _Sanji_'.

With a start, Sanji jerked upward in bed. He'd distinctly heard the curse. _Zoro_, he thought instantly. Only Zoro used that tone with him.

But the moment he realized that he was lying against his front door, that his apartment was still a mess, that he wasn't alone, Sanji realized that it wasn't Zoro that was speaking to him. Zoro didn't have that heavy, foreign accent. Zoro couldn't have broken into his room, because Sanji had fallen asleep against the door. The other thing that puzzled him was that his blanket was draped around him and that his pillow was nearby. He hadn't grabbed either before falling asleep.

The cold knowledge of knowing that someone had done that for him made his skin break out with goosebumps once more. He grit his teeth, pressing his back against the door, drawing his knees up to his chest. He couldn't breathe normally—his eyelids were heavy and his mind was sluggish, but everything that was happening to him was having such an effect on him that he was starting to believe the curio shop owner's tale of the doll.

The cursed doll that had imprisoned a malicious pirate's soul within. That caused hauntings wherever it was kept.

Eyes rolling with heaviness, Sanji frantically tried to think of where the doll could be. It couldn't be the doll itself causing the problems—no, he was seeing a full grown man. But there was no way possible a ghost—trapped inside of a child's toy—

"I'm going mad," Sanji whispered to himself. He wanted to believe—but at the same time, every time he thought of it, it was so ridiculous and incredulously stupid that he just couldn't. He brought up a hand, rubbing at his eyes. He used his heel to kick at the floor, the thumping sending a slight vibration against his crouched form and no doubt waking neighbors of his.

He could see the clock straight across from him, atop of the table—at that moment, he was slightly stunned to realize that the radio was on, playing the distinct sounds of jazz. The woman's rich voice was cheery within the heavy stillness of his apartment, but the effect sent utter chills down his back. Shakily, Sanji rose from the floor, letting the blanket drop from around him. He swallowed tightly. He was thankful for the lights of the city and the moon that illuminated his apartment, for as he carefully stepped through the piles of fallen books and maneuvered around the fallen bookshelf, he would have never been able to move. To function.

He could feel himself being watched, and he tensed. Carefully, without moving too much, Sanji scanned his apartment. The paper divider was up. Yet, even with that, he knew there was somebody behind there. Sitting on his bed. Watching him.

Sanji quickly leapt the rest of the way to the table and fumbled with the radio. He struggled to turn it off. When utmost silence hit him, he hesitated on his next action. Once more, his visible eye drew over to the divider. He could feel sinister and malevolent eyes on him; could absolutely feel the same emotions in the room. His exposed feet and hands were freezing, and as he sought to warm them, he looked over at the clock. Five minutes had passed since he'd awakened.

The baby was crying down the hall. Colic crying that made Sanji grateful for some noise.

Sanji wasn't sure what to do, now. He had to acknowledge that freaky things were happening. He had to acknowledge that, if he hadn't had the doll, this wouldn't be happening. None of it.

His mind raced. He couldn't picture where the doll could possibly be. He'd inadvertently searched everywhere, earlier. He hadn't seen it. And Zoro kept denying that he'd done something to it—! Sanji thought of the necklace. Zoro had released it—that stupid green headed idiot had released the malicious pirate from his prison and unleashed it—!

Two fifty-five, the clock read. It felt like Sanji had been awake for hours. It felt as if he hadn't had the chance for sleep in days. He could feel it in his mind, on his face. He swiped a hand down the length of his face, fingertips trailing off the growth of hair on his chin. Without much thought, he stepped forward and kicked the divider out of the way, revealing nothing on the other side. Just his bed. Empty...yet there were indentations at the edge, indicating the presence of weight.

The bed squeaked lightly, and the indentations disappeared. Sanji felt a chill sweep through him, and he decided that he had enough. Quickly, he stumbled through the mess in his apartment, struggled with the locks on his door and left his apartment yet again. Feeling incredibly foolish and yet fearful enough to stay on his course, Sanji made the very small trek to Zoro's door and knocked quietly on it.

"Be awake, asshole," he whispered, straining his ears to hear the familiar sound of Zoro's snores. Upon hearing it, he knocked louder. "Wake up. Wake up _right now_, dick face."

Minutes passed. Zoro still wasn't answering. The colicky baby continued to cry, and some man erupted into violent fits of coughing. Sanji's ears tingled, and his feet continued to freeze as he waited outside of Zoro's door. He stuffed his hands under his armpits and waited, listening for Zoro to acknowledge his knocking. Sanji removed a hand to knock again, firmer and more impatiently. He glanced around to make sure that nobody was looking at him again, like they had earlier.

Sanji's throat tightened at the sound of his door opening. Sanji tilted his head slightly, just enough to see past the flop of blond hair that obscured half of his face, watching as his door knob disappeared into the darkness of his apartment. The slight squeak of unoiled hinges and the telltale swinging weight of the chain on his door jingled musically in the hall.

Moments passed. He could hear that breathing. The baby seemed to cry harder all at once, the man's violent coughing growing more strained, more desperate. A child began to cry out for their mother once more, and every one of these sounds, combined with the intense silence that came from Sanji's own apartment seemed to attack Sanji's sanity at that very moment.

He began kicking and pounding on Zoro's door in a fitful panic, wanting nothing more than to be in there, to be near the iron-worker, to be anywhere but his own apartment. He didn't care if people heard him, or if they looked at him—he didn't care what the hour was. He just wanted _away_.

Sanji stilled. Awareness made every one of his limbs heavy, for the hairs to rise straight up on the back of his neck.

Freezing in the action of pounding at Zoro's door, Sanji realized that it was utterly silent. As if someone had turned a switch, effectively silencing off the world. Sanji's skin broke out into a cold sweat. For some reason, his eye focused on his open apartment door, and every instinct he had screamed out at him.

'Sanji.'

The sensation his heart leaping into his throat made him choke. That voice, its mottled, accented growl was obvious within the silence. Dominating everything. His mind, his thoughts, his very being.

'Sanji...'

He dreaded hearing his own name coming from that open door. He clapped his hands over his ears, wanting to run away from his position, but it was as if his legs were locked solidly, refusing to obey the frantic orders of his mind.

'SanjiSanjiSanjiSanjiSanji_Sanji_!'

The blond found strength to hit Zoro's door repeatedly, the iron-worker's name leaving his thin lips in frantic shouts. When pounding wasn't enough, Sanji found himself scratching at the wood, mad in his efforts to get away from that dark growl and from the evil presence that seemed to watch him from inside of his apartment. Splinters embedded underneath his fingernails—fingernails broke and chipped. When scratching and pounding wasn't enough, Sanji began throwing himself at Zoro's door.

'Not there..._here_! _Here_! What the fuck. _Sanji_!'

In a mindless move, Sanji's shaking fingers curled around the doorknob, and he suddenly found himself spilling into the opening door. He hit the floor of Zoro's apartment, breathing heavily and weak everywhere, but his mind was continuously screaming at Zoro for the action.

Even as he stumbled to his feet, half aware that the sounds of the colicky baby, coughing man and crying child came back to life, Sanji was cursing Zoro for being so careless. Didn't the green haired idiot know that there were desperate souls out there, looking for an opportunity like this? Who left their door unlocked in such a dangerous part of the city?

Zoro's apartment was pitch black and bare. The man had only a mattress on the floor, no pillow, and a couple of blankets that had seen better days. The kitchen was heavily dusted, the counters covered in miscellaneous ware. The window was wide open, revealing the sounds of the city outside.

Still, Sanji stood just inside the doorway, feeling himself calm at the frantic escape he'd made. Everything was normal, now. He didn't feel any menacing eyes on him, nor did he feel threatened. Zoro's apartment was entirely different from his, both in air and environment.

After relaxing, Sanji stared at the heavily snoring man just a few feet away. He glared at Zoro, wondering how the man could not have heard a thing. Sanji lifted his hands, aware that they were shaking. Splinters jutted upward from underneath his fingernails, and blood stained the tips. His hands were sore from pounding away at the door, and he had to wince. Licking dry lips, Sanji carefully ventured forward, then caught himself.

What was he going to do? What was he looking for? What was he going to say to Zoro? 'Oh, hey marimo. Let me sleep with you.' 'Yeah, there's some evil spirit in my place, and you were right—'

Sanji's pride immediately squelched that last bit. Admitting to Zoro that he was right was something Sanji didn't want to do.

He scowled. Zoro continued to snore.

Heavy uncertainty and ridiculous shame in his earlier actions had Sanji impatiently stomping a heel on the floor. Zoro snorted, shifted, and resumed snoring again. Sanji winced. How could anyone sleep around the man with those noises—?

With a hard press of his lips, Sanji turned and walked out of Zoro's apartment, closing the door behind him. With heavy and slow steps, he began the slow walk back to his. Once reaching the open door, Sanji hesitated to look inside. To be in view of the menace that had chased him from his living space left him questioning his decision in coming back.

Heavy boot falls on the hall stairway caused him to jump. Not wanting to be caught outside once more in his night clothes, Sanji entered his apartment and shut the door behind him. The apartment felt empty. Silenced. _Normal_.

Slowly, he drew the locks once more.

The clock read three-fifteen.

-

Exhaustion forced him to fall asleep around three forty-five. Sanji couldn't keep his eyes open, but he was elated in that morning was coming soon. The sun would rise, bathing the city and his apartment with its welcome warmth and light, and this nightmare would end. He slept fitfully, if not heavily—his mind wanting to shut down despite the continuous churl of thoughts and reviews over everything that had happened.

At four twenty-three, he was moaning softly, feeling his body tingle with rising heat and anxiety. He felt incredibly horny, hungry for sex. His skin felt slick with sweat, and despite his exhaustion, his body was already in the throes of neediness and desperation for friction. Despite himself, he couldn't even think to guess why he woke up in such a horny mood, why he couldn't just reach down and satisfy himself.

All he could do was mindlessly lift his hips, thoughtlessly searching for attention. His heart was slamming hard in his chest, and every moan and pant he gave was amplified within the stillness and silence of his apartment.

Overwhelming heat and strength in a roughly calloused palm against his stomach caused him to jerk—but overpowering lust had him moving _into _the touch rather than away from it. It caused him to curse, to make his body cry out for more. In his thoughtless lust, Sanji didn't think to open his eyes, or to even consciously question the situation. His body was in _need_—it was mindless. It wanted only to be touched and satisfied, and it didn't matter how or why.

A moving hand swept the shirt up to expose his belly—for hot breath to expel over the thin hairs that trailed down from his navel. Sanji heard himself whimper, could feel himself pushing upward for more contact, more heat, more friction. The slow drag of a hot tongue over his stomach made it flutter, for sensation like no other to drive his senses up the wall. He groaned loudly, protesting in wordless action, wrists bending and straining. The feel of his arms up around his head didn't occur to Sanji at that moment, for when he felt stubble, lips and a pressing jaw against the jutting angles of his hipbones, he cried out.

The bed creaked loudly—the empty space between his legs were filled. As his ears rang with buzzing pleasure and need, Sanji became faintly conscious of struggling to have his hands released; only vaguely aware that both wrists were entrapped within one overly strong grip.

"Please," he heard himself whisper, hips straining upward. "_Please_..."

'Sanji Sanji Sanji Sanji...'

He whimpered at the feel of his shirt pushed up around his armpits. He arched his back once more, straining upward, feeling his insides heat and tingle with the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. His hair was in his face; he couldn't see. But he didn't need to. He just needed that physical pleasure of having hands where they needed to be, to have his body played with and satisfied—

He shrieked with mindless action, body jolting with force. Instead of pleasure, he felt the twisting sensation of being possessed, of being claimed.

Shrieking again, Sanji was only vaguely conscious of his body being lifted high, for his hands to be released so that they could flail against the wall and the bed. Again and again his body was violated by intense force, his hips held at an uncomfortable angle.

He couldn't seem to get away; he couldn't seem to roll away, couldn't seem to think to attack and defend. His bed protested loudly over violent actions, and as he flailed, hitting the wall in his maniac efforts, he heard the low chuckles of a man satisfied. Just after registering that, Sanji screamed again, feeling the hot, searing sensation of flesh being rent; of skin being pinched and twisted. With his near hyperventilating breathing, he could smell human musk, iron and rot. Sulphur.

'Mineminemineminemine..._not _Zoro.'

-

At five fifty-six, Zoro had had enough of the wall banging, shouting and obvious bedroom activity from next door. Even as he tried to muffle the noises with one of his blankets, a strange flare of fury and disbelief had his insides sizzling with welling anger. To think that Sanji was with someone else made Zoro suddenly insecure and...maybe just a tiny bit sad.

Not that he thought anything more of Sanji as a free cook and a willing bed partner—no, not at all. But he felt insulted that Sanji would flaunt his new lover in Zoro's face the way he was doing now. In a way, Zoro found himself questioning what the hell he'd done wrong; to be tossed aside as nothing. In another, he was in disbelief that someone else would actually find the skinny, flaxen-haired jerk-off attractive enough for a quick—well, make that an hour's worth 'quick'—lay. And in yet another, he had to wonder why Sanji didn't want him anymore.

Zoro was quite sure they were both satisfied in bed. He knew exactly where to touch and how to drive the skinny cook into a trembling mess that he tried to hide behind curses and demands; he knew that the blond actually enjoyed his company, because why would Sanji keep up this routine nightly if he didn't?

Zoro tightened the blankets around his head. Thoughts moved from one to another, and he found himself growing angrier and angrier as minutes passed. Finally, he decided that he was going to face whomever it was that was making Sanji scream that way. He was going to compare himself to the other man, and he was going to confront Sanji nastily for the insult.

At six twenty-seven, dressed and ready for work, Zoro marched to Sanji's door and pounded upon it angrily. A small family hurried around him, wide eyes flitting in different directions as ears strained. Zoro kept his face forward; but his own ears were hot. His stomach was in knots. The more he thought about things, the more he felt betrayed and...hurt.

He knocked again, driving more force into it. Sanji couldn't avoid him—the man needed to work to keep his apartment. He heard movement in the apartment, and he steadied himself. Steeling his shoulders. Tightening his abs and making his arms rigid, so that the muscles popped. Dammit, he even strained his neck to make himself look more intimidating. The sight of his muscle bound frame and scowling face often sent many a men walking the other way, and Zoro was determined to make Sanji's new bedmate pay for taking over on his—well, _his _cook.

The chain shifted, and locks were disengaged; Zoro steeled himself, holding his breath as the door opened.

Sanji looked out at him blearily, and Zoro refused to be shocked at the intense shadows around his eyes, the heavy bags underneath. The blond looked as if he hadn't slept in months. His skin coloring was sickly and gray, and his hair more limp and stringy than before. As if he'd had the life sucked right out of him by some greedy...vampire-creature.

Sanji opened the door wide, and Zoro was just slightly stunned to see the fallen bookcase and books. The disarray of the usually tidy apartment was just...as astounding as the sight of the creature that rented it.

"Whaddaya want, 'mo?" Sanji croaked, and Zoro focused on him even as he forced his way inside. There was no one else there—and there wasn't the scent of sex. Nothing at all. With how long Sanji and the other man was going at it, the room _had _to have a single trace of cum or ass scent. But there wasn't. Just the scent of the food he'd prepared for Zoro hours earlier. The window was even shut and locked. There was no way Sanji could have made the smells go away so quickly.

Zoro looked back at him, keeping his steely expression in place. Sanji only glared at him, looking slightly demonic and possessed at that moment. Zoro promptly lost his rigidness. Maybe...maybe he was just hearing things.

"Ah...you...were pretty loud," he said, struggling to make himself sound unconcerned and uncaring. But he noticed the slight whine at the end. He winced.

Sanji stared at him. Even the blue of his eyes were darkened and shadowed. His face shifted into an impatient scowl. "_What_?"

"LOUD," Zoro repeated, unintentionally raising his voice. He winced again. "Just—the walls are thin. All right? Everybody can hear everything!"

Sanji stared at him in silence. Zoro noticed that his lips were painfully dry. "What are you talking about?" Sanji finally snapped.

Impatiently, Zoro shifted. His boots clumped against the floor. He wanted to rip Sanji's night clothes off of him to check for telltale marks. He wanted to look for finger shaped bruises on his pale skin, and wanted to comb through his flaxen pubic hairs for signs of another man's presence. He wanted to bend him over and check the clenching hole of his ass to see if someone had—

But he restrained himself and his more primitive urges. Because Sanji's expression was truthfully bewildered. Zoro could tell that the other man had no idea of what he was talking about. Despite himself, Zoro grew impatient, wanting to confirm everything before he absolutely had to leave for work.

"Were you fucking with somebody else?" he asked, lowering his voice and making his tone more menacing. Threatening Sanji audibly. Telling him that if the blond tried to lie, Zoro would know.

Sanji's visible eye widened slightly, and then his face registered impatient fury. He gave an agitated shake of his body before yelling, "NO! What the fuck?! _NO_!You barge in on me this early in the morning to see if I—?! Of all the stupid, idiotic—!"

"I'm serious," Zoro huffed, not reacting too much when Sanji jerked around, angrily yanking his closet door open to withdraw clothing. While Sanji was busy with his shaking hands, Zoro looked back at the mess with the bookshelf and books. At the fallen paper divider. Then he looked at the kitchen and gaped. Sanji must have been frantically searching for something. Every door and drawer was wide open. The sink was running quietly.

Distracted, Zoro frowned at the other. He subtly searched for any telltale semen marks on Sanji's clothes, on the way he walked. But without proper investigation, Zoro couldn't tell. He still wanted to go through with what he wanted to earlier. But then again, maybe Sanji had topped. They'd done that a couple of times.

Still...no scent of sex...no outward signs of sex...no man...Zoro was convinced he was hearing things. He reached up and fiddled with the black material he'd tied around his head to catch the sweat and keep off the sun. Satisfied for the now, he looked at the clock. Six forty-seven.

He looked back at Sanji, who was muttering under his breath about nosy marimos. He then cast a look around. Ever since Sanji brought that doll back to his place...seeing no sign of it, he gave a limp wave and walked out the door.


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, AU

A/N: Wow, thanks for all the reviews and comments and everything! I am really happy that people find this story interesting enough to read and review because I was rather nervous that nobody wouldn't because my mind can produce some pretty deranged things! O.o But thank you again! Hopefully this chapter will continue to hold interest, and hopefully I don't damage the other beloved OP characters too much. Cuz...that would suck.

The Pirate In The Doll:

Part Three

For the entire day, Sanji moved in a daze. The unsettling events of last night were tortuous. With his mind state, he wasn't sure whether or not what had happened had _actually _happened. Waking up the moment Zoro pounded upon his door, Sanji had been startled and relieved to wake up from the nightmare. But at the same time, he questioned himself on whether it was a nightmare. He felt nothing on his body—the bed was still in its somewhat tidy state...while he didn't find evidence of sex or violence on his body, he kept second-guessing himself. The incident had been vivid. He'd seen, felt, smelled—how could it have not left behind proof? How could...? Did it truly happen? It couldn't have if there wasn't proof.

But he'd felt such ripping pain, such searing strength and violence; the smells themselves had been unmistakable! One could not ignore the smells of rot, of the doll—!

Because his mind was in such disarray, he kept making mistakes. As a result, the head chef finally had him leave for the rest of the day without pay. At this point, Sanji was grateful for the break because with the chaos in his mind, he knew he needed time away to think. At the same time, he couldn't afford it. He needed to make money for rent, for purchases.

Still moving about in a daze, Sanji wandered away from the restaurant, intending on finding a quick day labor job that would hopefully give him the money he needed to make it through another day.

-

"Here it is! West Main Curio!"

Zoro squinted at the hand painted sign, the window display showing oddities that he'd never have the urge to investigate or buy. How Sanji was convinced in buying some satanic looking doll from a place like this made him question the blond's judgement and sanity. Maybe he should just let Sanji deal with his little imaginative adventures with the grotesque thing and think nothing more of his bitching. It would save Zoro a lot of trouble, but then again...he found himself more curious about the doll and its background once he reached the place of purchase.

Beside him, Ussop and Luffy, co-workers of his, surveyed the window display with their cheerful chatter and overexcited exclamations. Luffy had somehow managed to drag Zoro's destination out of him when the younger man realized that Zoro wasn't headed directly home. And despite himself, Zoro couldn't shake the two; he knew he'd have never found the place on his own. He was a little disgusted that the shop was just two blocks away from the apartment building where he lived. At the same time, interested because Sanji had mentioned that he'd passed it on his way back home from work. There was also the market place the blond frequented whenever he went out for food, and just knowing more tidbits of Sanji's day-to-day activities made Zoro feel as if...he were digging too much.

Ussop bent at the waist, hands on his knees to stare at a set of paste jewelry and fossilized leaves. "Ugh. Looks like my grandma's attic. Say, did I ever tell you guys this story of how my grandma stored these little containers of Russian dolls that—"

"No. Shut up," Zoro said crankily, not wanting to listen to another outlandish tale.

"No! What? What happened?" Luffy asked over him, squinting at a male mannequin dressed in Viking attire.

Thankful someone was interested, Ussop ran a hand through his curly hair, then roughly yanked it into a more tidier ponytail. "This one cold winter's day, my grandma had just finished making her world famous cornbeef stew—and it truly is famous, because they now sell it as a brand name down there in St. Louis, and I heard the patent was pending over in Michigan—when she heard a knock on her door, and then when she opened it, there were the little dolls. Sitting on her porch, waiting to be let in."

Ussop shivered. "I don't know what happened to them, but she sold them off. Hey, maybe they wound up here!"

Zoro tried not to look too exasperated in the rambling tale. So he focused intently on the window display, crossing his arms and trying to ignore them both.

"Oh my god! Look at that! A real chupa—chupacabra!" Luffy exclaimed, pointing at a display of a stuff and mounted animal. He then frowned, squinting, as if doing so would tell him more of the creature. "What _is _a chupacabra?"

"Wow Luffy! I would have never knew how to say that!" Ussop exclaimed, making Zoro roll his eyes.

Zoro then strode into the store, the other two hurrying along behind him. He stopped short before he could trip over fake vines that crisscrossed the floor, assaulted by the incense, the smell of old and musty things. Luffy dashed off to his right while Ussop struggled to stay close by, giving frightened looks at the mannequins wearing various type of Tribal costumes and welding ancient weapons.

A portly old man waddled out from the back, his face lighting up with delight at the sight of his customers. Zoro strode over, distracted for only a second by the sight of a cave woman holding aloft a wooden basket of jars holding preserved fruit. Just above him, hanging from the wooden beams, were various stuffed animals from the tropics.

"Excuse me...you sold a pirate doll the other day?" he started off, seeing the man's features instantly grow cautious and reserved.

"I'm sorry...I don't accept returns or exchanges," the owner said hastily. "Policy."

"Well, see—I'm not here for that. It's just...see, the guy that bought it is freaking out," Zoro said calmly, giving off an air of nonchalance. "I kept telling him it's just a damn piece of decorative art, but he's insisting it's alive. He told me he bought it here, so I was just sort of wondering what the story was behind it."

The old man hesitated to answer, glancing back at Ussop and Luffy as they dressed themselves in traditional Gypsy garbs. Swallowing tightly, he frowned up in Zoro's direction. It didn't seem that the man was here to force a return...nor did he truly look frightened or hysterical in any way.

"Old Gin was passed down from my father's father's father," he began stiffly. "Legend behind it was that he was a vicious pirate. For a man named Don Kreig...do you believe in pirate stories?"

Zoro shrugged a shoulder. "Eh. I believe in violent robberies. But nothing stupid like the supernatural or voodoo or shit like that."

"Gin was a malicious pirate...followed his captain's orders to the very word. Some say he was a demon possessed! Murdering, pillaging, causing vicious and malicious torment to his victims only because he enjoyed it so." The old man shuddered, making Zoro roll his eyes. He cleared his throat and spoke normally. "Er, anyway, the story behind Gin was that after he'd taken his last victim, a child of wee age, he was captured and tortured. Through the dark magic of Haitian witchcraft, he was bound to the child's toy...to which, after his spirit was imprisoned, took on his features as time passed. Now, anyone in possession of the toy often reported particular hauntings...shadows in the night...whispering...mischief...while he was imprisoned, Gin could do no harm. The necklace that bound him prevented it. But once the necklace was removed, he grew malevolent. Destructive. _Murderous_."

Zoro frowned. His expression told the owner that he didn't believe any of it. Seeing this, the owner shrugged.

"But that's just a story. He's been in storage for all these years. I think my family made up those tales out of boredom. I take it you've seen it?"

"Yeah...freakiest thing I ever did see."

"Any scary tale will do when accompanied with something as hideous as that thing was." The owner shuddered. "I don't believe in the supernatural...and I don't believe in evil spirits. But despite myself, I believe that some of those tales were true. I didn't dare remove that necklace. Call me crazy, but I truly believed that if I did, ole Gin would start causing a murderous ruckus here."

"Whatever," Zoro muttered as Luffy popped in between them, wearing a woman's wig and dress.

"Pirates were cool!" he exclaimed, having heard only part of the tale. "If I lived way back then, I would have wanted to be one!"

"I heard pirates were homosexual," Ussop whispered, eyes round. "Months at sea...with only men around them...wenches far in between uncharted seas...they had to use each other, _helpless _to deny their sexual urges..."

"Wow, Ussop. Talking about men being with other men really seems to make that nose of yours stiffen," Zoro said brightly, then gave the younger man an annoyed expression.

Luffy snorted, looking at Ussop, whose face turned bright red. "That's an old wives' tale, Ussop. But you're right! They were at sea for long periods of time! There was never women with them! They had to have sex _some_how! You can't hate them for what nature demands of them!"

The owner cleared his throat loudly. Zoro pushed Luffy in the direction where they'd found the gypsy clothes, and both men scurried over to remove what they'd put on.

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, by the way...if the necklace is removed, I mean, in theory only, how can you get the guy back into the toy?" Zoro asked.

The owner shrugged, looking truly puzzled. "I've never heard a solution. I've heard the questions...but never a solution. You'll have to ask the witch that cast the spell, but that was...over a century ago. Perhaps you can't put Gin back into his cage once he's let out."

"So...if he's out..."

"It's not as if you believe in that, right?" the owner asked, twinkle in his eye. "It's just a scary story to keep the kids in line. If the young man is truly afraid of the doll, perhaps he shouldn't've have bought it."

"...Right. Well, thanks for your time."

-

By the time he got home, stopping for a pint at the pub with the two young men, Zoro had forgotten the tale of the 'murderous' Gin and was now bothered with how he was going to handle Sanji. For Zoro felt uncertainty about his character and his actions; he didn't want Sanji to get the wrong idea about what it was they had, no matter how gung-ho Zoro had been earlier.

Still, the thought of the blond finding someone else really twisted at Zoro. He didn't want to think that way, but he'd heard what he'd heard. There was no mistaking the sounds of sex, and just thinking about it made his stomach ache.

He was surprised to see Sanji sitting outside his door, still wearing his work uniform. Zoro fiddled with his apartment key. Sanji rose from the floor, giving him a guarded expression as he watched Zoro try to shove the wrong end of the key into the lock. Once Zoro realized what he was doing, he scowled and turned the key over, taking a few seconds to catch the lock.

"What are you doing?" he then asked, rather crankily. How dare Sanji catch him off guard? It was almost as if the blond was reading his mind in some way, and this made Zoro ultra-cautious.

"I just got home," Sanji said with a sniff, walking in behind him and giving Zoro's apartment a studious look. "Uh, look, marimo, about this morning..."

"Urgh, don't talk about things I didn't even ask about," Zoro said hastily, kicking off his boots, feeling his face heat slightly with the topic.

"I don't care if you didn't ask about it!" Sanji snapped. "I'm just saying, y'know, you really had me worried about your unused little brain. I just wanna set the story straight, that there was nothing going on that you were hearing."

"I _heard _what I _heard_. Everybody did!" Zoro pointed out. His face flushed. "Who knew you were a screamer?"

Sanji's face burned bright red, and Zoro felt entirely foolish for letting a sliver of his insecurities show.

"Uh, ah, aw, well—_shit_. Maybe I was just having a really—really good dream," Sanji shot back. He then smirked. "Are you just jealous that you couldn't, in all this time, make _me _scream? Hah."

"Oh, fuck off, idiot cook. You and your stupid words, said to flatter yourself. _God_. You're so—self-absorbed!"

"'Self-absorbed'?! How am I self-absorbed?!"

"In any event, the point of this visit _being_?" Zoro said on a huff, removing a couple of layers of upper torso wear—working up so high, where the wind was strong enough to blow a man off a steel beam, it got a little cold.

"Uh...well...I'm just saying...what you thought you heard, you didn't," Sanji muttered. "I mean...nothing happened. Not even remotely what you think."

"And you think I care _why_?"

"You came up into my home like it was your business! Nosey marimo, you think you have to investigate every little thing I do?"

"Again with the self flattery!" Zoro exclaimed, turning around. "Geez! I don't care what you do! Why should _I_ care?!"

"I don't know! Just—don't!"

"Fine! Next time I won't! But keep your shitty ass business to yourself!"

"Next time you hear something you're not supposed to, don't listen!"

"Erk—! You're so—! _Argh_!"

Sanji scoffed at him, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked over at the clock. Every minute that passed was every moment that he dreaded going back to his apartment. He licked his lips. He could actually start to feel his insides quiver at the thought of going back to his home.

Desperate to pass some time, and to somehow come out with what he was actually trying to build himself up to do, he said on an exhale, "I still can't find that doll."

Zoro folded up his shirts. He scoffed as he tossed them gently in the direction of his closet. "_Now _you admit it's a stupid doll."

"I looked everywhere. It's like...it got up and walked away. Stupid as that sounds."

Zoro thought of the owner's words. "Maybe it did. I'm telling you. It was released."

"...Shitty idiot. You believe that stuff?"

"You do!"

"I didn't say that I did! I said nothing in that I believed in it! Stupid witchcraft voodoo bullshit—!"

"_Haitian _witchcraft voodoo bullshit," Zoro said, then froze.

Sanji frowned at him. "I said nothing about it being Haitian related."

"Well...uh...that's...I always hear the guys talking about it at work."

"You mean, while you're up there, looking eighty stories down, big strong idiots are actually talking about Haitian voodoo witchcraft?"

"Oh for God's sake—!"

"_Blasphemy _against witch craft."

"For fuck's sake—!"

"That's better."

Zoro heaved a heavy exhale. He rubbed at his temple. He was actually breaking out into a sweat over his flustered and careless words. It was odd how Sanji was able to do that to him. Infuriating thing was that it never seemed to affect Sanji in the same way. Zoro just couldn't tell what Sanji felt about him at all. "You give me such a headache, sometimes."

Sanji started to smile when a loud thud against the wall caused them both to start. Zoro flicked a glance towards Sanji's apartment, already dismissing it as a sound directed somewhere not within the area, but somewhere else. He had no reason to suspect that the sound came from there. He looked over to say something when he realized that Sanji's face had paled considerably.

Brow furrowing, Zoro studied this then smirked. "The boogey doll wants you back home, Sanji. Have you changed its diaper yet? Or, better yet, is Gin causing a 'malicious' destruction in your apartment? Ha! That's why it's always so fucked up in there!"

Sanji stared at him for a few moments, and Zoro felt himself scowl. All it took was a simple look to make him feel dumb. Sanji always had a way of doing that.

"I didn't say anything about the thing's name," Sanji said slowly, visible eye locked tightly on him. "How did you know—?"

"You told me that day! You said this was Gin, the murderous Haitian pirate—"

"I did not. I'd forgotten the name until now!"

"You did too! You did too, I remember!"

The wall rumbled with noise. Both of them startled again, and Zoro had to hesitate. It really sounded as if somebody were throwing heavy furniture around. Scraping it deliberately against the walls. But that was ridiculous. After a moment of silence, three ominous thumps made the entire apartment ring. To Zoro, it was as if someone were hitting the wall in anger. It was something he'd done himself a few times, so it was a distinguishable sound.

He rolled his head over to Sanji. With a slow grin, he said, "Let's see who's there. Maybe your boyfriend's pissed because you're here with me."

"Only you would feel so flattered by the thought, that someone would think of you as competition," Sanji said with a scoff, turning and walking bravely out of the door.

Zoro scowled.

But he stomped out after the other, grumbling low underneath his breath as Sanji paused outside his door to make sure that Zoro was really there with him. He had the door unlocked and opened by the time Zoro caught up to him, and as soon as he walked in, he stopped short.

Zoro barged in after him, and had to stop himself from slamming into Sanji. Instantly, he was aware of how heavy the air was. How it simmered with anger. Violence. The light from the hall illuminated the catastrophic mess that covered the floor, kitchen. The bookshelf had been shattered into small pieces. Cookbooks were torn and slashed. The record player lay in halves. The radio lay in various pieces throughout the room. Pots, dishes, utensils—everything had been mangled and broken. Clothes were scattered throughout the entire area. The paper divider lay mangled inside the sink. The plants had been shredded, pots broken. Dirt had been scattered everywhere.

Zoro felt as if he were being watched. He felt his skin crawl with the ugly sensation of not even knowing who was watching him.

He gave a shudder.

"Ick," he muttered.

"...Did you just say 'ick'?"

"No! I mean..._damn_. Your place is fucked up." Zoro kicked aside the heavy skillet, wincing as he belatedly remembered that he'd taken off his boots. He awkwardly brought his foot up, hopping on the other as pain bloomed "_Bitch_."

Sanji hesitated for a moment, then looked at him. "I can't sleep here," he said. "It'd take all night to clean up."

Zoro straightened. He saw that this was so. He wondered how long it would take Sanji to clean it up by himself, then realized that if he helped, Sanji would be using him for every little thing afterward. Zoro wasn't sure about having that sort of commitment.

Then he frowned. Why did his skin tingle so strongly, as if he were being flayed by eyes alone? It was a very distinct and very unforgettable sensation. The apartment felt as if it were in arctic temps. He could actually see his breath as he exhaled.

He realized that Sanji was looking at him pointedly. "_What_?"

Sanji scowled, and Zoro realized that he'd missed something. He scrunched up his face. He didn't hear Sanji say anything other than that he couldn't sleep in his own bed. Which meant—

"Oh." His eyes widened. He tried not to show that he was happy about it. There was something immediately cozy about having Sanji spend the night with him, but at the same time...Zoro had to be careful about it. Because then Sanji might get the wrong idea.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah...whatever. For a night, I guess."

Sanji scowled. "I'll cook for you. The usual. Don't tell me you'd rather—"

"I said 'okay!'"

In that same instant, Sanji smiled at him. Zoro was disarmed immediately, and he knew it showed. But Sanji had already turned and began gathering what was salvageable from the kitchen to take to Zoro's.

Zoro's skin crawled once more. He couldn't help but feel as if there were somebody watching him from the shadows. Shuddering, he couldn't resist the impulse to reach up and rub his arms, wondering why it was so damn cold. By the time Sanji was ready to leave, Zoro was starting to think that maybe the owner of the curio shop was lying when it came to the doll.

-

Zoro knew he was a hard sleeper. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep next to Sanji, and he often hoped it wouldn't be the last. But tonight was different.

When he awoke, he took the necessary time he needed to get his mind in working order. He let himself adjust to the darkness, and for the fact that he had hours to go before he was supposed to get up and get ready for the day. He let himself adjust to having the knowledge that Sanji was sleeping next to him—in a way. The blond had somehow fallen to the floor during their sleep, and was snoring lightly against the mattress while Zoro dominated his own bed.

Listening to the other breathe, Zoro smacked his lips and focused on the darkness of his ceiling. The apartment was freezing. The floor was settling noisily, with customary creaks and moans that had never been suspicious or out of place. The building was old, the walls were thin, and people moved around all the time. He sat up, stretching his arms upward and hearing his spine pop with the action.

Relaxing, Zoro slumped his shoulders and then had to wonder why he woke up in the first place. His skin had broken out in chilled reaction; his muscles felt incredibly tense. He felt as if...there was somebody else in the room besides himself and Sanji. He looked over at the blond, then around his bare bones apartment. Shadows caused by outside light from the open window told him enough. There was the sound of a baby screaming its head off somewhere down the hall.

A man was coughing violently.

Zoro frowned, and rubbed at his eyes. Crankily, he leaned over on one elbow to look down at the blond, and found it somewhat endearing to see the other sleep in that position. His hair completely covered his face, and his fingers of his right hand were curled underneath his chin. Zoro sat up quickly and refused to feel any more feeling in the other, because it made his stomach feel weird and fluttery. Zoro didn't like to feel weak for anything.

Then he stilled—something was out of place. He strained his ears, trying to listen through the sound of the man's coughing and the crying baby. He heard Sanji's breathing—that was distinguishable. But he heard something else as well—the sound of another, breathing harshly. The sound of a man struggling with control. It made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"What the fuck...?" he whispered to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he searched the darkness for the location of the man.

The sharp rasp of inhalation, followed by a shaky exhalation was enough to have his tanned skin break out in goosebumps. Not one to just sit there and examine his thoughts and feelings over what made him fear simple noises, Zoro rose from the bed. He stepped over Sanji and began to prowl his own apartment, listening to the breathing noises. He gave up when the sound continued without any distinguishable volume; no matter where he went, the sound was the same. Almost as if there was a man standing behind him, breathing heavily down his neck.

Zoro swatted at his shoulders upon an icy touch, and then turned to examine the darkness. Frowning, Zoro listened to the sound for a few moments, then began the slow walk around his apartment once more. He opened the front door and peered out—everyone's doors were locked and shut tight. Out here, the baby's crying was louder, the man's coughing was more distinct. Somewhere on this floor, some kid cried for their mother.

The usual nighttime noises, he assumed, and shut the door. He then opened it again, as if trying to surprise anybody that he'd missed that was sneaking around him. The hall was still empty and noisy, and there was no one around. He started to shut the door when he noticed odd markings on it—opening it wide so that the light of the hall could illuminate his findings, Zoro furrowed his brow upon the scratches on paint and wood. He reached out and touched them, 'hmm-ing' to himself as he wondered if they had always been there.

He then shrugged and shut the door softly, so not to disturb the sleeping blond. He glanced over, then forced himself to follow through with locking the door. It felt alien to him; foreign. Just as he accomplished that task, something out of the corner of his eye shifted, and he lifted his head quickly. There was nothing there. Zoro had to question himself on that one, because he swore he'd seen somebody there.

Sanji snorted in his sleep and shifted around. Zoro exhaled slowly, watching his own breath. Muttering low to himself, he rubbed his arms and made his way back to the bed. Clumsily, he tossed one of his blankets over the other man and wrapped the other tightly around himself. He then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

-

Zoro's eyes shot open in what felt like minutes later. His breath was caught in his throat. Having no idea what it was that him woke up, he sat up with a start, eyes quickly adjusting to the moon illuminated darkness. He could still hear that breathing—feeling absolutely irritated that he had no idea where it was coming from, Zoro twisted to visually examine his apartment once more. But this time, he stilled, eyes widening with expression. He'd fallen asleep with Sanji right beside his mattress—but the blond man was now all the way across the room, snoring against his own unused kitchen counter. The blanket that Zoro had dropped on him an hour earlier was tossed at the foot of the bed.

For a moment Zoro stared at the telltale form of the blond. He wondered how Sanji had moved all the way over there, and why in the hell Sanji felt more comfortable lying there than he would next to Zoro. The green-haired iron-worker decided to shrug it off, muttering to himself and figuring that perhaps his snoring had driven the other man to find some sort of solace across the room. But then it bothered him—it was freezing in the apartment, and the other had to be cold...

Knowing that it would bother him while he tried to sleep, Zoro gnashed his teeth and kicked off his blanket, climbing out of bed. He stumbled slightly when the blanket caught his foot, and as he turned to kick it away, something moved out of the corner of his eye once more. Zoro lifted his head quickly, seeing nothing.

Grumbling that the late hour was playing tricks on him, he continued moving toward Sanji when he had to stop short, face shifting into that of surprise. He could have sworn Sanji was outside of the kitchen, laying against the counter; but now the blond was curled up on the kitchen floor, still snoring away.

Zoro wasn't sure what gave him the chills as he processed this. But as he reached up to scratch his head, he had to tell himself that it was only because of interrupted sleep that he wasn't thinking clearly. Quickly, before any more distractions could bother him, Zoro hurried over to the blond and shook his shoulder.

Sanji continued to snore, and Zoro grew frustrated. It was late, he was tired, and he didn't want to wake up in the morning sluggish and mentally clouded. He needed all his wits and concentration about him to be walking those narrow steel beams. He crouched and grunted as he pulled Sanji into his arms, muttering about fat-ass cooks. Sanji snorted and bucked lightly, but fell limp and continued snoring as Zoro quickly made his way back to his bed. He deposited the other not too gently on the bed, finally waking the other up.

"You were sleep walking," Zoro muttered as he climbed in after him. "Lay still before I knock you out."

"Marimo..." Sanji growled before giving up and rolling onto his side. Not even moments later, he was snoring lightly again.

Zoro pulled the blankets up around them, settled uncomfortably onto his back, and forced himself to go back to sleep.

-

This time when he woke, Zoro's entire body jerked. He registered himself swatting the air a couple of times before catching himself. His throat was tight and every nerve was ringing for defense. Blinking rapidly, Zoro wondered what the hell he'd been dreaming to wake up feeling so defensive. The darkness was irritating, telling him it wasn't even close to morning quite yet. Grumbling, Zoro turned his head to place the restlessness on the blond when he realized that Sanji wasn't there.

He sat up with a start, realizing he was lacking blankets. There, across the room, Sanji was once more sleeping against the kitchen counter. But he had both blankets around him—bewildered, Zoro stared for a few moments, then growled as he rose from the mattress and stomped over. With how still and silent his apartment was, it was as if his feet were creating more of a noise than they should, and he faltered in his stomping.

Growing disgusted with himself, he reached down and yanked at the blankets that was tightly wrapped around Sanji, forcefully disentangling the blond from them and waking him up at the same time.

"What are you doing?!" Zoro growled as Sanji looked around himself in confusion, bumping his head against the counter as he struggled to stand. "What is your problem?"

"What—?! _What_—? How—? What?"

Zoro mimicked him as he stomped back to his bed. "You keep moving over there! If you wanna sleep over there, then, fine! But don't take all the blankets! It's shitty-ass cold in here!"

"I didn't—! Why would I want to sleep—! I'm in a kitchen all fucking day, why the hell would I want to be sleeping in one all night?!" Sanji protested crankily, following after the other.

"Fuck if I know! Shit! Keep this blanket, and if you move over there again, I'm leaving you there."

"Fine—!"

Both of them resettled with their respective blankets, huffing and glaring at the darkness. Zoro was a little startled in that he couldn't hear that odd breathing anymore. If possible, the room felt empty. He bumped against Sanji as he rolled onto his side, facing the wall. The night was just a little too weird for him.

-

'Zoro'.

The iron-worker shifted restlessly, then snorted. Someone was shaking his shoulder and saying his name, and Zoro was growing fiercely irritated. He purposely snored louder and refused to acknowledge the shaking of his shoulder.

'Zoro...what the fuck. _Mine_.'

Zoro's mind, sluggish as it was with the lack of proper sleep, registered these words. They didn't make sense. What also didn't make any sense was that this voice wasn't familiar to him. As he searched his memory for the face that belonged to this voice, he received a hard physical jolt that knocked him face first into the wall. Flailing, kicking the blanket off of him, Zoro resolved to pound this man's face into the floor once he got his hands on him.

Clamoring off the mattress on the floor, Zoro searched the apartment for the offender and found nobody. Forcing himself back into a controlled stance, Zoro grit his teeth and scanned the darkness for telltale shadows of someone fucking around with him.

'Zoro...mine.'

He whirled around, hearing the distinct whisper. But he saw nothing. Sanji wasn't in the bed with him—in fact, the blond wasn't anywhere in sight. Puzzled, Zoro relaxed out of his fighting stance and once more scanned the shadows. With pressing footsteps, Zoro walked over to the kitchen and looked on the floor. Extremely puzzled, knowing that he didn't hear the other wake up and leave and at the same time feeling insulted that Sanji would, Zoro turned to eye the front door, scratching the back of his head.

Then he stilled. Sanji hadn't left—he was still lying on the bed, sound asleep.

Zoro gaped at him. In all his flailing earlier, he should have hit the other man. But he didn't. And how Sanji could sleep with all this talking, baby crying and coughing and weirdness was completely beyond Zoro.

'ZORO!'

Zoro whirled, jolted by the harsh shout that made his ears ring.

'_MINE_!'

Zoro winced, automatically reaching up to touch his ears, bewilderment and distress hitting him as the unsightly man continued to scream at him for things he wasn't even sure of.

'FUCK! MINE! _NOT _ZORO!'

Zoro finally rushed at the darker shadows of the apartment, searching haphazardly for the man that was driving him crazy. He searched the closet, the only place that a person could truly hide within his apartment, but once again...he found nothing.

That breathing had returned. Only it was more harsher, louder—as if the man had been running a short distance. Zoro whirled around, almost losing his balance. Then he glared over at Sanji, who slept through it all. How could the man _sleep _through this racket?

Zoro resolved to wake Sanji up to make him look for the man when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He whipped around, watching the man do the same thing. He tensed, prepared to attack when he realized that the other man had done the exact same movement. For a moment Zoro stared—the darkness obscured most features, but he could clearly see himself standing there; shoulders rigid, arms tensed, hands curled into fists...He could see the darkness of his trousers, the lighter material of his shirt. Even his hair glinted green in the faint light.

Zoro slowly straightened, watching the other do the same thing. Every hair on his body was standing straight up at this moment. The apartment was intensely silent. Even Sanji himself had stopped snoring. It was almost as if Zoro were entirely alone.

But Zoro didn't take his eyes away from the man that followed his every movement. Even as he felt physically and mentally jolted. Slowly, he lifted a hand in a careless wave. The man did the same thing. Zoro lifted his other arm above his head, and watched mimicking movement. Turning his face from side to side told Zoro that the other was doing the same thing.

For a moment, Zoro stood there in silence. Then he dropped his arm, turned around, and went back to bed. After he settled underneath a blanket, he stared up at the darkness of his ceiling.

He didn't have a mirror in his apartment.

-

He woke up to the distinct sounds of Sanji moaning. His stomach curled with heat as his eyes snapped open at the same time. His back was turned, but he could feel the other man shifting atop of the mattress, the rustling sounds of material slithering over the very noticeable sounds of a man in ecstasy. At first Zoro felt incredibly pissed and insulted because how dare Sanji play around with himself in such a manner, with Zoro _right there_? As if Zoro wasn't good enough to turn to for pleasure.

Then he felt guilty, as if he were hearing things he wasn't supposed to. But how was Zoro to block them out when Sanji was_ right _behind him? He grit his teeth, feeling anger once more. It made his stomach turn to hear Sanji whimper and moan like that, his moving legs brushing against Zoro and the mattress jolting with motion. Zoro wasn't a stranger to Sanji's sex sounds, but this was entirely different. There was an entirely different tone and sound to the way Sanji panted and groaned.

But the more Zoro listened, the more he realized that there wasn't the telltale rasp of masturbation. Or even the slick sounds of penetration. Puzzled, Zoro strained his ears to hear any of these actions, and heard nothing. He wanted to turn around to see what it was that made Sanji do that, but...he felt restrained. As if he lacked the strength to do that simple action.

Zoro frowned. He wanted to get his body to twist to see what Sanji was doing but then—he grimaced. Just listening to Sanji had just given him a hard-on.

Growling low in his throat, he thought, _Of all the damn things to happen _right now.

Because he didn't want to feel aroused. He didn't want to get sexually excited listening to Sanji behave in this wanton manner, because it did NOT involve Zoro. And this was really insulting right now. Zoro grit his teeth and cursed at his traitorous body. It was almost as if his damn penis had ears and a mind of its own; definitely interested in what was going on behind him.

Somehow, Zoro managed to shift, twisting his head to look over at the other man, but the moment he saw Sanji's pleasure twisted face, it felt as if someone had just knocked a two by four into his jaw. There was a definite smack of flesh upon flesh and Zoro was not conscious for anything else.

-

When Zoro woke up for the final time, his sleep-heavy eyes registered the bright lights and sounds of morning. He remembered everything that had happened last night—and once he remembered what had happened to him physically, he sat up with a jolt, hand automatically going up to his face to examine what injury he'd been given. He felt nothing on his face—no swelling, no abnormality. His head wasn't even ringing with a headache, nor did he feel sore or even hurt in any sense.

Extremely puzzled, feeling weighed down, Zoro had to question himself on everything he'd experienced. Did it really happen? But it had to have—he was intensely sluggish and tired. That only happened if he had a bad night's sleep, but everything else—!

He looked over at Sanji, finding the blond sleeping peacefully on his side, facing him. Zoro glared at him, pushing away the blanket that covered him. Then he lifted Sanji's, subtly searching for telltale semen stains on his bed and on Sanji's trousers. He saw and felt nothing. Risking it all, Zoro lifted Sanji's shirt to search for marks, and at the same time, pulled down his trousers and underwear to search his pubic area for cum stains.

Jolted awake by Zoro's actions, Sanji gave him an outraged noise, pulling up his pants and underwear and kicking the iron-worker in the upper torso, sending his own body off the mattress and onto the floor.

"What the fuck?!" he cried, feeling his entire body flush as Zoro rubbed at his chest. "What are you doing?! Just _ask_, asshole!"

"No—! _You're _the asshole!" Zoro snarled, flailing to get Sanji's blanket off of him. Both of them stood, flushed and furious at the other. "What the fuck are you doing, getting your rocks off in MY bed, thinking it's OKAY—I'm sleeping _right there_! I mean, what the fuck?! You feel so fucking horny you gotta do shit to yourself without even asking me if I want to—?! That's just—!"

Sanji's face, ears and exposed throat turned a peculiar shade of red and purple that didn't even seem healthy at all. And Zoro turned the same way, because it sounded to him as if he were a whiny, pride-damaged lovesick fool. He didn't mean it that way—it was just the point of the situation that drove him to say such things.

"I...I don't remember...I...couldn't have," Sanji stammered, looking at the floor. It was okay, because Zoro was looking at his own feet, feeling exceedingly clumsy and moronic for his outburst. "I mean...I don't..."

"So it wasn't even—_that_ memorable, huh? I mean...you don't even..."

"NO. I mean...I..._shit_. Shit, this is awkward. I—I'm sorry. I don't—look, I'll clean up—"

"There's nothing there!" Zoro snapped, then flushed, feeling guilty for knowing.

Sanji wanted to look at him, but he felt too embarrassed over the very thought of Zoro hearing and seeing what he didn't even remember. All he could think of was that graphic dream the other night, where he'd been so horny and desperate, and it'd turned all into violence and pain—

He swiped at his hair. "Ugh...it's just...been...a crazy week. I'm...going to...go back to my place. Uh...thanks. For...letting me stay. Uh...I slept really good here."

Zoro scowled. But he shrugged. "At least one of us did."

"Look—! I'm sorry! You're not the only one embarrassed, right now—!"

"Why would I be _embarrassed _over what _you _do?"

"Because you obviously think it's a big deal! Any other man would have just let it go, or—or even tried to get into the action!" Sanji exclaimed, voice breaking in mortification. "But you didn't! You just sucked it up and listened, doing nothing!"

Zoro's head shot up. He glared. "Are you suggesting I'm...of _eunuch tendencies_?"

Sanji gave him a disgusted look. "For fuck's sake..."

"No. You're trying to blame me for the lack of response to—!"

"Argh! NO! Idiot! Shitty piece of shit idiot! _Thank you _for letting me stay!" Sanji then snapped, stomping over to the front door while Zoro followed closely after. He paused at the door as Sanji made his way to his apartment.

"Fine!" he then shouted, loud enough for everyone who was still around to hear. "I guess you're just waaaay to horny for me to handle, then!"

"Impotent moron! Quit blaming your insecurities and lack of manly responsibility on my obviously over-exuberant manliness! You can't get it up when I need you to, then don't take your inadequacies out on me!"

Zoro shook his own door as Sanji slammed his, the hall ringing with their shouts and noises. Finally, Zoro slammed his door, breathing heavily. He reached up and gripped his hair, wondering why Sanji always had to have the last word.


	4. Part Four

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, AU

A/N: Dialogue taken off a translating site...so forgive me. Sometimes the translations aren't accurate. . I apologize in advance. Oh yeah! And I know the dialogue isn't entirely appropriate for the 1930's...o.O Um, I don't think they used modern day slang of today, but...I just think it's neater that way. XD (counts _Blade of the Immortal _as inspiration for such things)

And, as always, thanks for the reviews!

The Pirate In The Doll:

Part Four

Zoro knew it was bad when he walked up to the construction site and found a large crowd of angry workers milling around, the area closed off. He looked up at the uncompleted skeleton of the high rise, shaking his head in disgust. Without venturing any further, he muttered an expletive and then turned and began to head back home. He knew that construction was slowing, and had even come to a stop around the city and throughout the country. With the economical crash, he was wondering when his luck would run out. Now he had to make serious efforts in locating some sort of a job before he found himself on the streets.

That was one thing that bothered him—if Sanji was in the same bind as him (as were thousands of others), why in the world did the blond spring for such a purchase? The doll was probably the man's food supply money for the next few weeks. Zoro rolled his eyes and thought that Sanji was one of the bigger idiots that he'd ever known.

The day passed, and early evening found Zoro at home, unsuccessful with his job searching efforts. There were just too many men needing a job, and so little employers. Frustrated, he decided to sleep the rest of the hours left and maybe think a little more about what had happened the night before. It was hard to focus on one thing when there were so many other things happening.

But he didn't get to—practically a moment after he'd laid his head down to sleep, Luffy and Ussop had barged into his apartment. The former was angry over the loss of his job, and the latter was weepy but already making plans to leave the city for something else in the country. While they argued amongst each other over the idiocy over that, Zoro realized he wasn't going to get any sleep at all.

There was no way in hell he was going to tell them about what had happened the night before, but he really wasn't looking forward (for once) to spending the night with a man he suddenly wasn't certain of. Thinking of Sanji's apartment, Zoro decided to put the other two to work.

-

Sanji found himself outside the curio shop on his way home from work. People were losing their jobs left and right. The restaurant was losing its customers; in this time of economical hardship, many were unable to spend. As a result, the workers weren't being paid as much as they should be. At the same time, living expenses were still high. He still had rent to make, utilities to keep. It wasn't much—the building he lived in provided enough for him to get by, but money was money. And money was rapidly disappearing, leaving behind severe debts. He knew with some heavy confidence that he would be out of a job soon.

He was regretting buying that doll—_Gin_, he remembered. But the day he'd seen it was the day when he'd felt that he absolutely needed it. Swallowing hard, he stared at the spot where he'd first seen Gin. He was trying to remember what it was that prompted him to buy the cursed thing.

He would have to watch his food supplies. With the way things were today, fresh vegetables, fruits and other sources were becoming more and more expensive. There were farms failing; crops dying. He would have to stick to what he was going to be able to keep for more than a few days. Which reminded him, he needed more ice for the icebox. He sighed low, and began the walk home.

By the time he found himself in front of his apartment, he was regretting yelling at Zoro; he knew for his own reasons that Zoro was behaving like an idiot, but Sanji felt that it was his own fault for snapping that way in a moment of weakness. He pulled his key out of his pocket and paused. There were noises coming from his apartment—moving thumps, shifting furniture, heavy footfalls.

Fear caused him to stiffen. He then turned and started to walk away, unsure over what he was going to do. He stopped at the top of the stairway, gritting his teeth. He wasn't going to let this thing chase him away. It had a name—it had a past. ...sort of. Sanji stood there for a few moments, then lowered himself to sit at the top of the stairs. Reaching into his left breast pocket, he drew out the half smoked cigarette he'd been saving and a box of matchsticks. He lit it, savoring the taste and smell, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as he was able. Then he exhaled as slowly and gently as possible, wanting to make this cigarette last. He closed his eyes, focused intensely on the hand-rolled fag before shifting slightly to allow a couple of men to walk past him.

He took another long inhale of his cigarette, opening his eyes to stare bleakly at the landing. Exhaling reluctantly, he carefully stubbed it out and then put it away. He stood and slowly made his way back to his own apartment, unsure of what he was going to do. He glanced over at Zoro's door, then lifted his hands to look at his damaged fingernails. He was missing two—three were half broken, and there were still splinters in four fingernail beds. Sighing low, Sanji lowered his hands, then drew out his key once more. Surely the Depression was much more important than some deranged toy that—

His door was open. With apprehension, Sanji pushed it and walked in, stilling. Two sets of faces looked at him in surprise, various objects in their arms. Without hesitation, he kicked in the face of the man closest to him while the other one shrieked and ran in circles, looking for a way out. By the time the first flew over the kitchen counter, Sanji was running up to the other, drawing his left leg back for a kick that was going to send the other flying.

The paper divider, clumsily held together by yarn, was swept aside as Zoro popped up from behind it with a sleepy surprised expression. Sanji paused, a little outraged that while he was being robbed, Zoro was sleeping in his bed. He aimed to kick him as well when Zoro caught his foot with an easy block and sent him flying with a shove. Sanji caught himself from falling by kicking out a leg to brace himself against the wall, and used his arms to steady himself.

"Geez, calm down!" Zoro ordered, wincing when Luffy finally picked himself up from the kitchen floor. The younger man was very unsteady on his feet, clutching the sink tightly as he groaned. Ussop hadn't gained consciousness yet. "You just beat down the guys that cleaned up your shitty place, idiot cook."

Sanji straightened, giving the other two incredulous looks. Luffy collapsed back onto the floor with a loud moan. "What? They're with you?" He then noticed that his apartment was very clean.

"_Yeah_, they're with me!"

Sanji frowned, but he put on a haughty air. "Huh...well then...my bad."

Seeing that was as close as an apology as he was going to get, Zoro sighed. He heaved Ussop to his feet, struggling with dead weight. "We lost our jobs, today. We had some time to dick around. Don't go thanking me or anything."

"Er...well...I'll cook something," Sanji muttered. But inwardly he winced. It was going to be a huge chunk out of his already small food supply. Still...looking around his cleaned apartment, seeing how well the two men (because it was apparent the green haired man was sleeping the entire time, the lazy ass) put things back together again, made him want to repay the favor.

"Their names are Luffy and Ussop, by the way," Zoro said, nodding in the former's direction. Both of them looked over when Luffy ducked suddenly, then straightened, holding up a very familiar object.

"This belong to you, too?" Luffy asked sluggishly, waving the doll in the air, blood dripping from his lip. He leaned over and spit a tooth into the sink.

Sanji's visible eye widened, and he strode forward to snatch it out of his hand. "How did you—?!"

"I saw its head poking out of the hole. I thought it was a rat, but it just kept sitting there," Luffy said with a grin, using his foot to show where he'd found the hole.

Both men leaned over to see a fist-sized hole underneath the sink, near the drain. Sanji wondered how he'd missed that; but then again, such things weren't unusual in a building like this one, and he hadn't even given it a second thought. To know that the doll was so close made him feel like an idiot.

Zoro dropped Ussop and joined him as they looked at the doll. Luffy was confused as he watched the two older men gape at a child's toy. He squinted hard, absolutely befuddled as he took in the dirtied doll; its stringy hair was tied into a ponytail with a faded ribbon. The dress was in tatters. The feet were missing its shoes. Its face was scarred, but one could see the individual eyelashes, the painted lips.

"It looks...like a regular doll," Zoro growled, snatching it from Sanji and turning it over in his hands as he examined it. Once more, when he lifted his fingers, soot appeared over the pads. Sanji snatched it back, shaking his head.

"Maybe this is a different doll—!"

"It's not! It's the same one you bought!"

"But it's a _girl_—!"

"That guy said the doll took on the pirate's form after time! What does this mean?! The doll's back to normal, so does this mean that the guy's no longer _in _there?! That just makes things even worse!"

"I know that, asshole! Why do you insist on telling me the obvious?!"

"Hey, fuck you! I was thinking out loud! It helps me!"

"I always knew you were a brain dead idiot, and this proves it!"

"Aw, go to hell, you blond dick on a stick."

"...That's new."

Luffy was confused. He had no idea what they were talking about, and Ussop was finally regaining consciousness. He washed the blood from his face and hands, then walked over to Zoro and Sanji. With an expression of thought, he asked, "Is this the doll you were asking about yesterday, Zoro? That one that was making your friend freak out?"

Zoro made a face, then belatedly slapped a hand over his mouth. Sanji glared at Zoro, lowering the doll. "_What_. 'Freak out'?"

"Don't listen to him! He's an idiot! He doesn't know what he's saying!"

"But Zoro—! West Main _Curio_!" Luffy protested as he shoved Zoro's hand from his face. "We were there! We—!"

Sanji flung the doll onto the floor, growling. "Sticking your stupid nose into my stupid business, marimo! What the fuck?!"

"I just wanted to make sure that you were telling the truth!"

"...What's 'marimo'?" Luffy asked curiously, then watched the two men growl, facing each other menacingly. He grinned, popping up next to Zoro as Ussop slowly picked himself up from the floor. "Wow, you two must be really close friends. How come we never met before...uh...what's your name?"

"Why wouldn't I tell the truth?!" Sanji exclaimed over Luffy's questions. He snatched the doll from the floor then stomped toward the kitchen. He flung it into the sink, snarling and growling the entire way as he began to pull out various pots and pans.

"Look, the only reason why I was there was because—" Zoro started to say before he ducked a flying pot. Ussop wasn't so fortunate, and Luffy winced as the curly-haired man hit the floor for the second time that night.

"Shut it, ass ape! I don't want to hear anymore shit from you!"

"Oh, yeah, real appropriate choice of—!" Zoro then stopped, realizing that Luffy was still watching them closely, a cheery smile spreading his lips thin. Zoro scowled and crossed his arms heavily over his chest. "I can never win with you! Everything I do is wrong!"

"Shut it with the self-pity, marimo!" Sanji growled, brandishing a knife that made Luffy duck.

Luffy grimaced, then found his attention diverted from the men's shouting. He went completely stiff, feeling his own skin pimple with goosebumps. Because as Sanji and Zoro hollered at each other, distracted, the doll in the sink had pulled itself up, the head turning to look in his direction. As it stayed in that peculiar position for a few moments, one arm lifted and slowly moved from side to side in a wave.

Luffy couldn't swallow. It was both eery and fascinating at the same time. Everything within sight and sound faded until he was focused completely on the ghoulish doll that continued to peer out from the sink at him. He gave a little start when the doll disappeared from view, falling back into the sink with noticeable sound.

Later, after all the plates were cleaned, Luffy returned his attention to the doll. Sanji had pinned it to his own cabinet with the use of a butcher knife. The morbid sight was enough to make two of the four men nervous and anxious, and matters weren't helped any with the other two emitting auras of fury and disgust.

All of them were sitting on the floor, listening to the sounds of life all around them through the thin walls. Luffy was only half-delighted in that Sanji prepared food that was amazingly memorable, but his attention was focused entirely on the doll. Ussop was jittery and nervous over the violence he'd received, and kept darting looks all around them, ready to run if Sanji threw another fit. Somehow, the three had been convinced by Luffy to discuss job options, so that they had a plan of action for tomorrow.

Luffy kept waiting for it to move again. He didn't bring any attention to it by verbal command, thinking that perhaps he'd just imagined things.

It was nearly ten when Luffy and Ussop finally made their leave. Zoro had moved to follow them when Sanji caught his shirt and held him back, daring him to say something in front of the two that were already out of view. With a heaving sigh, Zoro stepped back into the apartment and shut the door.

"It's too late for this shit, idiot cook—"

"Let's compare notes, marimo."

"... 'Notes'? On...on what?"

"You know what." Sanji retook his position on the floor, where the four of them had been sitting earlier. With a glance at the doll that was still pinned to the cabinet door, he waited for Zoro to settle across from him. He took out his cigarette and lit it, taking the same measures as previous. By the time he'd savored two deep inhalations and exhalations, he stubbed out the cigarette and set both matches and cig aside.

"I shouldn't have bought it," he then confessed, a little grudgingly. "I'm going to be tight for...hopefully a week. I won't be able to cook for you."

"Er...okay?"

"Other than that, you heard the same story I did, right?"

Zoro grunted. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep after such a hectic night, but it looked as if Sanji wasn't going to let him go so easily. And, besides, Zoro was also aware that Sanji had apologized to him once more—he was forgiven, and it made Zoro feel a little better.

"Yeah. But," he flicked his eyes over at the doll, "now I feel like I have to believe it."

Sanji gave him a grave look. He rose, taking a few moments to turn off the repaired lamp. Rustling around, he sat back down with a couple of candles, lighting them carefully before settling back down. "I wish I knew what to do. I don't think destroying the doll will make it go away."

"Why is it so focused on you, anyway?"

"How the fuck should I know? Well, I bought the thing. Stupidest decision I ever made..."

"_Yeah_," Zoro said with a snort. He glanced around apprehensively. "How do you know when it's around?"

"I don't know. Look. I—I'll keep an eye out. Job wise," Sanji said slowly, frowning slightly. "You have a reserve, right? A, I don't know, secret stash of sort?"

"No," Zoro said, relaxing backward to fold his hands behind his head. "Can't trust people around here."

"You don't have any reserve funds?! Do you know how stupid that is?!"

"Geez. I made enough to pay my rent, buy me food and booze...what else did I need?"

Sanji palmed his forehead.

Zoro sat up, elbow on a knee.

Sanji stared at him for a few moments, and Zoro had to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing. Then panicked because he had to wonder if Sanji was getting clingy on him. At the same time...he felt that very distinct possibility in that he was gleeful for getting something out of the blond when it came to feelings for him.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Er...anyway...I'm not really worried about things too much."

"You wouldn't," Sanji muttered, threading his fingers together. For a few minutes, the pair sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

A sharp piercing creak caused them both to jolt. When they looked up, every drawer and cabinet door was open. The sink was running at a trickle.

Zoro felt that feeling of being eyed—his skin rippled with unease. Thinking of last night, seeing the man that mimicked his every move, that pushed him, that made picking up a six foot man seem like it was nothing, Zoro rose from his sitting position and brushed off his pants.

"Gin!" he boomed, startling himself and Sanji as the other rose, handling the candles carefully. "Coward! We aren't the kid you last fucked over. What the hell do you want?! Why can't you just show up to the both of us like a fucking man, instead of playing stupid little parlor tricks?"

Silence reigned, and after a few moments, Zoro felt foolish. He felt his skin heat with embarrassment for saying something out loud, when it wasn't even guaranteed he'd be given an answer. He reached up to scratch at the back of his head when the candles in Sanji's hands went out.

"Turn those back on!" Zoro screeched, rather unmanly like.

"I didn't do it!" Sanji screeched back.

They both froze, unconsciously easing close together until they bumped elbows. Then they pushed at the other to give themselves space, both embarrassed by the gesture.

It began slowly—a low whisper of a chuckle that grew in volume. It was almost as if it were coming from all around them. Skin rippled with cold and unease, and hair rose straight up.

'Man? No...not coward...man?'

"Fuck this," Zoro muttered, marching toward the door.

"Mari—! Coward!" Sanji hissed after him, but he was following just as quickly. He paused, then hurried to the cabinet that had the doll pined to it. Pulling it into his grasp, he then left the apartment after Zoro, cradling the doll to his chest. "Running away from that son of a bitch isn't going to solve anything!"

"Then _you _go back in there and tell him that!" Zoro exclaimed. "I had enough of this Haitian voodoo bullshit! What the fuck? I didn't _ask _for this! _You _bought the doll, _you _do something about it! Besides, it's all fixated on you!"

"How was I supposed to know that the doll was going to—!"

"That should teach you to not spend so frugally in the future!"

Sanji threw his hands up in exasperation. "Fine. You green-haired pussy. I've known cold shrimp that was more braver than you."

Zoro scoffed. "Insult me all you want, dartboard _face_. You and your curly eyebrow can deal with that shit on your own. I didn't buy the thing, so therefore, I don't have any responsibility for it or its actions."

"...Moron." But Sanji stiffened his shoulders and walked back to his apartment. Without a word, he let himself in and closed the door behind him.

Zoro watched him go, hesitating. But the moment the door closed behind Sanji, he grimaced. With a growl, he opened the door to his home and walked inside, making sure to slam the door to let everyone know of his inner turmoil.

-

Meanwhile, Sanji clutched the doll close to him, keeping his back to the door. The darkness and coldness of his apartment was chilling—he swallowed tightly, feeling the sensation of being watched very closely. The longer he stood there, the more apparent were the breathing noises.

Before he could say anything, a shape took form near the furthest corner of his apartment. He was startled to actually see it, watching a shoulder flex as a bushy head bobbed with some erratic movement. Sanji was frozen solid—he wasn't actually sure if he wanted to confront the thing or run away. His lungs were tight as the form shifted away from the corner, disappearing completely. The breathing noises grew louder next to him, and he repressed the urge to flail or run for cover. Every one of his hairs on that side rose straight up, skin rippling with icy cold.

Shadows shifted alongside him, and suddenly the doll was slapped right out of his hands. This time Sanji emitted a girlish shriek, jerking backward only to hit the wall. The doll rattled as it skidded across the floor, coming into plain view of the moonlight that filtered in through the window. Sanji stared around himself, pressing himself into the corner to at least feel some sort of stability. His skin broke out into a clammy sweat. The floorboards creaked suddenly, the sound of heavy boots moving over the area making his ears ring. For some reason, his attention drew down to the doll that was bathed in the moonlight. He saw the shadow on the floor first—almost as if a body had just planted itself in front of the window, bushy head bent in contemplation.

Sanji's mouth was dry, his head ringing as the footsteps stopped abruptly with the shift. When his eyes darted to the window, there was nothing there. But within the shadowed reflection of the window, he clearly saw the outline of the man standing over the doll. The contrasts were frightening.

His breath caught in his throat as shadow moved. The doll was nudged once before being lifted. Somewhere, eerily, Sanji heard the faint murmurs of a child crying for its mother. At first he thought it was coming from the doll—it made his stomach curl and pitch. As the doll paused in mid-air, held aloft by a tall man holding it at chest level, Sanji felt his teeth chatter. The silence, save for the abnormal cries that seemed to come from everywhere at once, was absolutely heavy. It felt as if no one else existed in the world, save for the doll that was held by invisible hands.

'Bizette...' came the otherworldly murmur. Before Sanji could register the name, the doll was flung fiercely at him. The child began screaming—frantic, panicked screams that made his blood run cold. The doll hit him and fell to the floor, the child's cries absolutely blood curdling. Sanji's hands flew to his ears, trying to block out the noises even as he registered the telltale footsteps of boots over his floor. The vibrations under his worn shoes told him that the malicious ghost was coming towards him.

Just as he'd felt heavy breath against his hair, his eyes squeezing shut in automatic reaction, the world fell silent. Still. It took Sanji a few moments for this to register, his hands shaking as he pulled them from his head. He could smell the borscht cooking next door, the telltale thumps of movement in the hall. Someone's laughter rang out, and a baby cried over screaming parents' raised voices.

Trembling violently, Sanji fell into a crouch. His apartment felt incredibly empty at that moment—the temperature had returned to normal. His hair was incredibly staticky, though, and he registered this as he touched his head.

-

'...Mon chouchou, vous m'avez désobéi de nouveau, et avez négligé mes souhaits. Je suis déçu et fâché avec toi.' (1)

Sanji felt himself quiver upon hearing those whispered words near his ear. He wasn't sure how he'd fallen asleep, but the moment he realized that he did, he felt violated. He was in his bed, he realized. On his back, hands folded on his stomach. He could smell the rotten breath of a man that had bad hygiene, and his stomach twisted. But he couldn't move. He heard the words whispered so close to his ear, skin tingling with electricity, but he couldn't see him. _It_.

It was so dark in his room—he couldn't see anything. It was as if the window had been covered by thick, heavy material. The world was shuttered out, and he truly felt alone, if not for this menacing and malicious presence beside him that made his very bones quiver.

'Vous ne me parlerez pas d'une façon si irrespectueuse encore. Je n'aime pas quand vous refusez, ou quand vous parlez de nouveau à moi d'une façon si effrontée. Vous parlerez me correctement, et sans impudence. Est-ce que c'est de quelque façon peu clair?' (2)

Sanji's breath coming in shaky pants from slightly open lips. He had no idea what was being said, but the very chill in hearing something that was spoken so menacingly made him realize that it wasn't a good thing. Despite the fact that he had cookbooks and recipe books in French, he personally didn't know enough to be fluent with the language. Fear made it even harder to attempt to translate.

"I—I don't know what you're saying. I don't fucking speak—!"

He felt icy cold fingers on his forehead, and even as he felt that survival instinct of moving quickly, his entire body was frozen solid. Nothing would obey. Nothing would lift to his command, and his mind raced with panicked fear and horror as he felt each individual digit sweep over the clamminess of his skin, brushing his hair aside. His breath came in short spasms. He could smell the sulphur and rot that came from this vile thing.

"...why?" he heard himself whisper, unable to get his voice louder than that. "What did I do...?"

The hand on his forehead flinched, then lifted to grab a handful of his hair, yanking it hard and making him give a short cry of pain and shock. 'Une telle rébellion de quelqu'un tellement tout à fait inutile!' (3)

"...W-what?"

'Je vous enseignerai à me traiter sans respect! Je, votre maître, votre sauveur! J'étais celui qui vous a plumé des ravages de votre maison! Je vous ai abrité et ai protégé, et ici vous vous rebellez contre moi avec vos affections à l'autre!' (4)

"I don't know what you're saying! Shitty asshole, just leave me alone!" Sanji then cried, tensing at the utterly furious aura that was now emitting from the man—the demon. He felt utterly helpless and vulnerable as the man continued to rant and rave in a language he couldn't even try to translate.

Suddenly he choked, feeling the strength in icy hands that burned around his throat. Reflexively he reached up, curling his own fingers around the ones that felt like steel. He couldn't draw in breath, his lungs automatically squeezing. He kicked and flailed, hitting steady and iron-hardened arms. He could feel his face heating and pulsing with pressure, his mouth opening wide, his throat trying to swallow air that wasn't coming.

'I...am...not...dead,' Gin whispered in broken English, and Sanji could hear his teeth clicking with every word. 'You hide behind your lover's back! The sea takes many lives, but it hadn't taken mine! It took me months to come back home!'

Sanji absorbed the words. Some of it was faintly explanatory—but it wasn't the time to focus and think about them. He choked, kicking the bed, struggling to be released. His fingers clawed upward, searching for anything vulnerable. But they only swatted through air, scraped against the wall.

When he was finally released, he choked and gagged, his throat feeling as if it had been crushed. Flopping off the bed, he struggled to breathe, hearing heavy boots tromping around him, a hunter circling his prey. Even as wild fear made his limbs stiffen, his gut clenching with apprehension and mortal fear for his soul, Sanji couldn't get the strength to get up and move.

When he opened his eyes, he was more than startled to see that his apartment was gone. Instead he was looking at a hardwood floor, stained by colors he didn't want to guess the origins of. He could smell the sea—so salty and wet. Gulls cried, and waves battered the beach. He remembered the dream of which he hadn't any particular details of. But almost as soon as he registered this, thoughts of unbidden memory came to him.

And suddenly Sanji felt crazed, insane. Because while he knew his true self was huddled on the floor of a derelict apartment in a city that struggled with the effects of the Depression, he was also in clear apprehension that the sugar cane plantation in Haiti was a French owned property that he happened to be an employee of. And this mad man, this pirate he'd only seen once while he was serving his employers and their guests, had taken it upon himself to claim him in his mind only.

He registered his fear, disbelief and utter cluelessness as the maddened pirate circled around him, breathing heavily in agitation. The morning had yet to receive the sun's rays—and yet slaves were already up and moving outside the servants' quarters. Sanji could hear them—but he knew they were keeping a wide berth from his open window, and he could see their questioning eyes and hear their fear-filled whispers. It was truly frustrating that they wouldn't come to his aid simply because he was higher-ranked and a different color than they were.

Utter fear paralyzed his bones—but as he lifted his eyes, they alighted on the doll that lay, crisp and neat, on the floor. Immediately, the image of the plantation owner's youngest daughter came to mind. Their Bizette...and Sanji was confused...he had to wonder why the doll was lying there in his own quarters.

He heard the crashing sound of the waves breaking along the shoreline, and just as he closed his eyes to blink, he felt the crushing weight of a boot upon his back, a sharp curse ringing through the air. When Sanji opened them, he was back in the darkness, searching for anything to throw or use against the malevolent ghost that made the air quiver with his anger and fury.

"I don't even know who you are!" he whispered hoarsely, unable to speak louder than that. "I don't even know why—!"

'You were supposed to _wait_!'

He hit the wall, twisted, and kicked. Relief like he'd never felt hit him when his heel connected with something human. The moment his heel connected, he sent his other leg in the very same spot, and he heard the loud crash of a large human body slamming into the kitchen cabinets. Gin's scream of outrage and fury was high pitched and ear ringing—unearthly. But it was enough for Sanji to climb to his feet and run like mad for the door. The locks jittered as his hands fumbled with them, and he was quite sure Gin was getting up from the floor, heaving animalistic growls that made Sanji's skin ripple.

Once Sanji realized that his door wasn't locked, he locked them out of sheer panic. Then as he fumbled to unlock them, Gin was up and over the counter, eyes glowing blood red and heavy shadow obscuring his form. Before he could do anything, Gin was on him, icy hands curling over his head and shoulders. There was a tremendous _bang_!, and then intense darkness and silence.

-

Zoro stood outside of Sanji's door the next morning. He had heard nothing last night—but then again with how tired he was, he'd pretty much slept until twenty minutes ago. He felt unsure and a little gruff with guilt in that he'd let Sanji walk away from him. By now, Zoro was pretty much convinced that the tale of the doll was true. There just wasn't any other explanations that there could be when it came to the ghost. There were just too many strange things that weren't easily written off as day-to-day things.

But he felt foolish to admit this. He'd never heard of anything stranger than this situation, and it wasn't easy to accept that such things existed. And it certainly didn't help matters that his feelings for the other man were too much to ignore. This stabbed him in the gut.

"Shit," he muttered, wiping his nose and then staring at the door that stood between himself and Sanji. And the ghost. He frowned, lips drawing tight until he knocked on the door.

He didn't think Sanji had gone to work, yet. He didn't smell the telltale scent of his hand-rolled cigarette, and Zoro knew Sanji had to have a few puffs before leaving.

He knocked again when there wasn't an answer, then turned to leave, figuring Sanji had left early. But when there came two staccato knocks on the other side of the door, Zoro froze. He stared at the wood, wondering if he'd heard what he had.

Without thinking, he lifted a hand and knocked again. There was an answering knock that made him jump back, then scowl.

"Sanji! Open up!" he demanded. "Stop fucking around!"

For a few moments, he waited. Listening for the telltale sound of the locks being removed, or for weight to shift upon the floor. Instead, he found himself leaping back when a heavy thump against the other side of the door rang out, the wood vibrating with almost angry violence.

Hairs standing on end, Zoro flattened himself against the wall. Then hurried off, eager to get out of the area.

-

That night, Zoro sipped at his pint. All around him were miserable men that were fretting over the loss of their jobs, or in danger of losing the one they had. There was a radio next to him that relayed the day's current events overseas. Finishing off his pint, he left behind a few coins for the bartender and walked off. He managed to find the curio shop, but there was a sign in the window that told him it was closed for good. With a scowl, Zoro peered inside, looking for any sign of the owner and seeing nobody.

Frowning, he turned and started making his way home, careful to keep his eyes on the signs and landmarks. He was infamous for getting lost all the time. But tonight was different—he knew that he was deliberately taking his time, hoping he'd run into the blond cook on his way home from work. When he reached the apartment building, he was a little disappointed that he hadn't. It meant he would have to go back home to ghosts and coughing men and crying babies. He kept hoping Sanji was waiting for him as he walked up to their shared floor, but there wasn't any sign.

In fact, the entire floor was silent.

Zoro tried not to be too spooked—even if the walls were thin, that one could hear everything, he had to assume that it was a great coincidence that nobody was home yet. His footsteps rang out, measured and heavy. He winced with each step and tried to walk more lightly. As he paused in front of his door and took out a key, Zoro strained to listen for any signs of life coming from Sanji's apartment.

Then he stilled. He heard the familiar sounds of a radio playing, Billie Holiday belting out a cheery tune. It was coming from the blond's apartment. With a frown, unable to remember if Ussop had been able to put the radio back together, Zoro walked over. He was a little leery of knocking on the door—this morning had been rather surprising.

So he set his ear close against the wood and listened. All he could hear was Billie Holiday. He exhaled slowly, then reached up to place his hand on the knob. He turned it, hoping against hope that it wasn't locked. When he realized that it wasn't, he stilled. But as he did, pain flared up through his very skin, scorching his palm and fingers and forcing him to cry out.

He jumped away from the door, hissing as he lifted his hand to observe burnt skin. The stench was hideous, and the pain was consuming. But he blew against it, waving it in the air as he ventured back toward the door. As he stilled once more, he realized Billie Holiday was being muted—her voice slowly dwindling until there was nothing but silence. His skin rippled with a heavy chill, and he resisted the urge to rub his arms.

Listening, Zoro became quite aware that there still wasn't any sounds on this floor. No movement, no voices, no telltale creaks and moans of bodies moving over wood. But he strove to ignore that, focusing intently on Sanji's apartment.

Slowly he grew aware of the telltale rise and fall of heavy breath. The very same he'd heard in his own apartment two nights back. With a frown, Zoro tilted away from the door. He looked down at the bottom of it, toward the open slot. There wasn't any light coming from it, but he could clearly see the shadowy set of boots on the other side of the door. He didn't recognize those boots. While curious to what this thing looked like, he really didn't feel it in him to see at that moment.

Instead, Zoro slowly walked away.

-

The silence was unsettling. Zoro didn't understand why it was so quiet. Usually he would be able to hear his neighbors moving all around him. The telltale sounds of their feet upon cheap tile and wood; the crashes children make when playing; the voices; the scents and sounds of cooking...everything was gone. And it was really bothering him.

Pacing in his own apartment, Zoro kept his ears strained to hear any sound of Sanji, but there was nothing to tell him that Sanji was even home. Save for the radio that continuously played Billie Holiday. It was the same song over and over again—but he knew for a fact that Sanji wasn't a fan of Billie Holiday; he was more in the twanging guitars of country singers. He grit his teeth, flexing his arms as he paced.

Why wasn't there any sounds?!

It was driving him crazy. He should have been able to at least hear something coming from the floor above and beneath his, and from his neighbors around him. But there was absolutely nothing.

The city was still alive outside—the sounds of boat horns, heavy foot traffic, loud rumbling vehicles...but it was as if the very apartment building was an entire different world apart from the city.

Zoro finally resolved to brave whatever it was Gin was doing, and marched from his apartment to Sanji's. Without any warning, Zoro rammed his shoulder into the door, the cheap wood cracking under force and swinging wildly to hit the wall with a loud, reverberating bang. Zoro expected an attack, a barrage of sharp, thrown things. But as he relaxed, he saw nothing.

Only Sanji standing silently by the window, gazing downward.

"HEY!" Zoro barked, feeling relief flood through him at the sight of the other. The room smelled musty...coated with iron. It made him wince, pressing a forearm against his nose as he struggled to keep his eyes from stinging and from his alarm to overcrowd the rest of his senses. "Hey, what the hell? Why are you...playing...games...?"

He trailed off because Sanji hadn't acknowledged him. Nor did he flinch or move from his position by the door. Zoro's brow furrowed, and he grit his teeth. Glancing around, he saw that everything was in its place. Yet, the kitchen cabinets were wide open. The drawers hanging out of their alignments. The bed was neatly made and there were cigarette wrappers and a tobacco pouch on the counter. The air was extremely chilly, and wood popped and moaned underfoot.

Zoro frowned. There was something about the situation, about the way Sanji stood that made him ultra-cautious. He heard the door swing shut, but that was automatic—it wasn't as if there was anything back there. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab at the blond's shoulder when he hesitated.

He didn't see Sanji's reflection in the window.

Zoro took a step back, feeling every hair stand on end. He turned to leave when he realized that the door was splattered with blood. There were splashes on the floor and the wall. The floor was covered in it near the bed area. As he continued to stare, he realized that the bed was heavy, foul with blood. The doll was crushed, left in tatters at the foot of the bed. There was a knife lying on the floor, coated with congealed liquids. There was also a weapon sitting nearby—the round ball was coated with bits of matter and congealed blood, the baton dried with similar substances.

When Zoro shifted, he saw that he'd left blood imprints of his boot treads with every step. With a sound of distress, Zoro whipped around to face Sanji for answers when he realized that the blond wasn't there.

His blood ran cold.

'Il sait,' came the whisper, and it was from everywhere at once. In his mind, he could hear the man speaking to him, as one would in a confessional booth. 'Il me tuera… Je suis seulement désolé pour se faire attraper. Mais je ne regrette pas de le prendre pour le mien. Toujours mine. Il était mon une bonté.' (5)

Quickly, Zoro ran out of the apartment, nearly blind with panic. He didn't stop until he was blocks away from the building, and even then, he was pushing himself to go. People looked at him in curiosity, but it was as if they didn't exist.

-

In his room, Sanji opened his eyes. They were heavy—his vision grey around the edges. He saw his ceiling, the darkness allowing him just enough to register that it was late at night. He heard people tromping around in the halls, the child crying for their mother.

He couldn't move. He was lying next to the window with his pillow under his head and a blanket tossed over him. He knew Gin was behind this moment of comfort. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, not knowing that it had been almost a full day since Gin had reacted violently. His head was pounding with a headache that made his stomach lurch. Just thinking of moving made him incredibly sick. He closed his eyes, too weary and too pained to see where Gin was. Or even to examine his injuries.

As he slowly became accustomed to the usual nighttime sounds, he licked his lips and fought to ignore the buzzing in his ears. The intense feeling of having his throat in an abnormal position was an uncomfortable one—though it was only bruised and swollen, making it hard to breathe. He had to stay in control and not panic in order to keep his airway working, but he didn't think like this: instead, he thought if he just continued to lie still and motionless, Gin wouldn't bother with him.

Lying there, Sanji listened to the normal sounds around his apartment. The boat horns, the traffic, his neighbors...but as he listened, he realized something piercing. The child crying for their mother had been crying the very same things every night he'd heard it.

'L'eau ! S'il vous plaît, maman, l'eau ! J'ai soif ! Maman ! S'il vous plaît! J'ai soif! Maman!' (6)

The coughing man...there were other voices around it. The murmur of a woman, her words indistinguishable, her tone consoling.

The colicky baby, the mother whispering harshly—her words inaudible, but her sharp hisses and tone menacing.

Sanji had to wonder why he hadn't listened closely to these things before. He swallowed as best as he could and continued to lay there, listening to those noises and wondering what was going to happen next.

In a moment of weakness, he yearned for Zoro, feeling the ache deep within his bones, yearning for some comfort and clarity. Just thinking about the other made his head hurt—but at the same time, it was the drive that had him moving. He thrust the blanket away, feeling his stomach lurch. His head began to ring and pound with a violence that felt like a booted foot was repeatedly kicking at his brain. With a groan, he rolled away from the window, slowly and sluggishly crawling to his feet. Once standing, Sanji held his head with both hands, trying to focus on his task.

He took a step, feeling his leg shake with the effort, and the resounding force of shock to his brain. Everything hurt so much that he wanted to curl up back on the floor and just lay there for the rest of his life. But he kept seeing Zoro, and kept hearing the iron-worker's taunts and barbs and was fueled with the need to continue on. Gin was no where nearby—and for that, Sanji was grateful.

He made it to his door, groaning again. He managed to open it, stepping out into the hall with a sense of relief and accomplishment. Through the light was entirely too bright for him to handle, he covered his eyes and took another step forward, wanting to make it to Zoro's apartment. But before he could, he felt the now familiar presence of Gin as he breathed over the back of his neck. Sanji stilled, but he felt intense and overwhelming frustration flow through him before rough hands yanked him back into the apartment with no room for argument.

The door slammed shut, startling everybody on the floor awake and for the ghostly whispers to stop.

A/N2: Again, sorry if the translations don't add up. I tried to get it as close and understandable if possible. (For all you French-fluent speakers, please don't kick my ass if you see a screw-up . )

(1) My pet, you've disobeyed me once again , and disregarded my wishes. I am disappointed and angry with you.

(2) You'll not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner again. I don't like it when you refuse, or when you speak to me in such a shameless way. You'll speak to me properly, and without any impudence. Is this in any way unclear?

(3) Such rebellion from somebody is who is utterly useless!

(4) I'll teach you to disrespect me! I, your master and your savior! I was the one that plucked you from the ravages of your home! I sheltered and protected you, and here you rebel against me with your affections to another!

(5) It knows. It will kill me. I am only sorry for getting caught. But I don't regret taking him for mine. Always mine. He was my one kindness. It would have been an insult to my character to have not forcefully taken what treasure was presented to me.

(6) Water! Please, mommy, water! I'm thirsty! Mommy! Please! I'm thirsty! Mommy!


	5. Part Five

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, AU

A/N: Whoops...many many years ago, when I was in high school, I should have been paying more attention to the History lessons rather than threatening boys with damaging their baby fertilizers and ignoring my crush(es). XD Cuz I fucked up. Thanks to _Myyrhic _for pointing out a couple of things! A brief history update: The Great Depression began in Oct. 1929 and pretty much lasted throughout the thirties'. WWII began for the US after the attack in Pearl Harbor in Dec. of 1941. WWII actually began in 1939 when Germany invaded Poland. So, uh...I fucked up, thinking that the US was at war in the thirties', which is the time line I'm working. The US struggled to stay neutral to the entire thing, despite Roosevelt getting down with Britain's Winston Churchill to work up the Atlantic Charter in Aug. 1941. But then again, I've read instances were gung-ho Americans popped overseas just to get in on the action. But no worries! I editz me stuff and just want to get shit in order cuz...it's way embarrassing when I write what I think I knew and researched and then realize, like, two years later when I reread a fanfic and realized the mistakes. XD Booyah. I encourage everybody to point out any mistakes in my writing, or question something; I won't bite or get pissy when you do. It helps me as a writer to correct those mistakes and prevent doing them in the future. PEACE!

A/N2: Edited version here—unedited located under 'homepage' in profile. Rated for scenes of non-con, murder, gore, and, uh...suggestions of cannibalism. . Yeah. That bad. But at least it'll explain some things! This chapter is broken in past and present—I couldn't play around with pretty italics or symbols b/c who knows how the formatting will end up. So...yah. Warning to you all.

The Pirate In The Doll:

Part Five

Zoro peered through the front window of the display shop. His mind was on edge. He felt like such a coward for leaving, but at the same time, he convinced himself that it was for the best. Because he didn't know how to deal with his enemy and he wasn't about to run in half-cocked, thinking he'd win this battle on luck along. No, he needed some background and strategy—thinking in this manner allowed him some peace of mind concerning Sanji. It was nearly twenty-four hours since he'd left, debating with himself...and getting horribly lost in the process, which took more time figuring out how and why he'd somehow ended up at the state's borderline. But he'd kept himself sane with denying that anything horrid had happened to the cook; that the blond was just at work and would come home and shit would start all over again because the cook would only come over and bitch him out and he would have to defend himself and Gin would get all jealous again—

Zoro needed more information to feel confident about his next move. Walking around the shop, he located the back door. Without hesitation, he began to kick. Every action was fueled with the need to get what he needed and get back to the building.

It wasn't because he was going to 'rescue' Sanji or anything, he thought. This thing had involved him without an explanation, Zoro's sleep was continously interrupted, and how was he supposed to get some sleep and thinking space to find a new job when he had some shitty ghost running around, thinking he had something going on with Sanji? Honestly.

The door folded in and Zoro wrangled his way into the shop. He wasn't surprised to see that a great majority of the owner's 'curio' was gone. There were many packed boxes stacked along the back room and corridor, and for a moment he stood there. Unsure of where to go or what to look for. Locating the owner's back office, he found a bookshelf filled with leather bound books. He looked through one, finding that they were all handwritten accounts of almost everything that the owner had in possession. As he started looking for Gin's name, he realized that he was going to need some help. So he threw the book down and hurried out of the shop, closing the door as best as he could behind him. Hoping that he didn't get lost, Zoro took off to find his co-workers.

-

The little girl with her pale features, pretty black hair and lace trimmed dress stared up at him with an unwavering smile. Her bangs were mussed from the salty breeze that was carried off from the ocean, and her arms were chilled with goosebumps. Sanji stopped what he was doing to look down at her, tilting his head as she shyly held her doll up to her face. Her nanny was busy bitching over what she was going to do while everyone was at the party. The child had been sick for the past few days, her main cries for water. Sanji had given her some fruit flavored water upon hearing her cry for a drink, and now the little girl had decided he was a friend of hers.

The servants were busy preparing for the night's party; a mingling and clash of the wealthy and their rivals. He had been cooking all day, annoyed at the other cooks and at the men and women that came in to swipe anything that caught their eye. Their employers were busy laughing and visiting in the garden down the hill. He'd just sent a boy down there with drinks.

Bizette had the deepest black eyes Sanji had seen on a child. They were wide and curious whenever she was sure no one was looking—but they turned shy and downcast whenever she was the center of attention. Her parents claimed her in name only, but it was the four nannies that were raising her. Kureha, the main nanny in charge and rumored to be a 'witch', was off performing some parlor tricks for the brave souls that dared to ask for her services. The woman Bizette had currently attached herself to was a red-haired thief that everyone knew stole regularly from her employers. But those that knew her sly stealing wouldn't dare snitch—Nami was capable in that sense.

Nami finally stopped complaining about Bizette's sickly mannerisms and tugged on her hair playfully to get her attention. "Let's go, brat. We've got us a pretty dress to wear," she said, Bizette finally tearing her eyes away from Sanji and looking at her.

"Nami, darling, ravishing as always. How about some fruit snacks before you go? Surely you wear yourself out being so beautiful all the time," Sanji said smoothly, grinning wide and idiotic as he held out a bowl full of mixed fruits; all arranged prettily and garnished with mint leaves.

"Thank you, dear. But I've never had some of that rum-flavored rib-eye sponges atop of such pretty china, before," Nami answered in a wistful sigh, pointing at one of the prepared meat dishes that were being dressed nearby. "I mean, not at all. It really looks so good...I wonder if I'll ever get to...Madam and Mister are so stingy lately..."

"Oh, a little sliver will not be missed. Just a sliver!"

Sanji handed her a tea-cup sized plate of the meat, Nami's eyes growing wide and grateful as she took it and hastily slipped it into Bizette's toy bag that she had wrapped behind her bag. She then reached up and tugged on Sanji's chin, pressing kisses on his cheek as he reddened and cringed with a show of extreme pleasure.

As they walked away, Bizette turned and stared over one shoulder, doll at her side as Sanji waved them off.

"_Argh_, that was just disgusting. One of the most sickening, most disgusting, and shameless displays of weak-assed pansy-footed moments that I'd ever seen...in the last hour."

Sanji heaved a huge sigh of intense weariness, then turned to face one of the many security men that patrolled the grounds. At the sight of the lazy, green-haired man that loved to pester Sanji in great moments of stress, Sanji felt his face twist into a sneer. "Fuck off, asshat. She was weak with starvation. Emaciated, unable to continue doing her wonderfully kind and caring duties for Bizette."

"Ch. As if her tits alone couldn't provide her with enough sustenance for an entire month."

Sanji shot him a sharp look, reddening. "You disgusting dog. How dare you speak of _her—_her_—her_—! How _dare _you speak in such foul ways!"

Zoro smirked, then turned, dumping one of the meat dishes into his mouth before tossing the small plate onto a counter. Sanji shuffled over with a kick that sent the other man flying into the wall, experienced cooks whirling around the scene with smooth dashes.

"Hands off, you green-haired ape! Like that spare tire of yours needs more nourishment!"

"'Spare tire'?! This is _muscle_! Oh, but I'm sure you don't know what that is...you damn ugly double legged stick." Muttering under his breath, Zoro walked off and Sanji rushed over to make sure that there was enough meat to make up for that small plate before they could work on another.

There were more people than they were prepared for. By the time Sanji was finished with his cleaning duties in the kitchen, it was well after two a.m. Exhausted and worn, the blond had left the kitchen with a few others and made his way to his quarters located within the main servants' beach house. Everyone was asleep and settled as he kicked off his tight leather shoes, and he disrobed down to his linen shirt and drawers. He collapsed on the bed without moving anything else and exhaled heavily. Through the open window nearby, he could hear the crash of the ocean breaking on the shore, and the plentiful wails of Bizette screaming for water. Her cousin, the daughter of his employer's wife's sister, had a colicky baby that was also joining in on the wails. Somewhere within the servants' beach house, Sanji could hear old man Francois coughing up his usual lung decay, his wife sleepily comforting him in the process.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply and thankful that he wasn't breathing in the stuffed and overwhelming scent of the kitchen. He woke himself up with a snort, eyes blearily lifting, feeling the telltale chill of morning. But something felt different. Something felt awry.

The exhaustion over yesterday overwhelmed his senses, and he relaxed once more, wanting a couple more hours of sleep when he felt the shift in weight upon his bed. He startled awake, sitting up to see the thin face of a man that he'd only seen hours earlier. Utterly bewildered as to why the man was on his bed as if he belonged there, Sanji gaped at him and wondered who the hell he was.

Nearly a half hour later, he remembered the man as being one of the guests for his employers. Sanji had thought that it was odd that a man such as this one was allowed within the vicinity with his grungy face and seemingly emaciated features, but he had his mind on other things. He remembered serving the man the full course that he'd served the others, but added in extras just because his appearance was so bad. He'd also thought that the man was recovering from a sickness; he'd thought nothing more of it at the time, but now, in this moment, he wished he did.

Because maybe he'd been better prepared or more alert. His mind was struggling to accept and deny them because none of what the man was telling him had to be sane. He pulled at his restraints, rope rubbing his skin raw, his fingers curled into tight fists. At the same time, he had to concentrate hard on not swallowing the uncomfortable ball of material that had been stuffed into his mouth, a gag tied into place to keep it there and to muffle any sounds he made.

"It's early," Gin had whispered to him, foul breath on his face and even fouler hands everywhere where Sanji didn't want them. "It's early. You make a sound now, it'll be discovered that this place is crawling with Don Kreig's crew. You know of Don Kreig, right? Everybody here in Haiti has known who the Terror of the Sea is...you should be so lucky that I had come back. Come back in time to see you."

The way Gin spoke to him, it was as if they'd known each other personally for years. Sanji knew that this was his first time ever seeing the man—he'd remember someone like Gin if he'd met him.

"You thought I'd been lost at sea, hadn't you?" Gin then growled, his voice low and menacing in the darkness. "You thought I'd perish and never come back. So you moved on."

Sanji stared at him, wide-eyed and aghast, head spinning. Gin was over him, wearing clothes that stank of his body odor and the sea, that were uncomfortably soft against his skin as Gin shifted to cross his arms over his chest and lay atop of him that way. It was enough to make Sanji feel utterly violated, air constricted with the weight of Gin. Gin stared down at him for a few moments, then shifted an arm out from underneath his chin, reaching around his own body. When he straightened it out, Sanji was alarmed to see a knife in his hand, the blade shimmering when it caught the light of the moon and flame-brightened lanterns outside. Sanji's heart rate increased with fear, and the weight of the cloth in his mouth threatened to choke him with the way he was breathing. Gin smiled slowly, full lips pulling back to reveal straight and even teeth. He twisted his wrist from side to side, allowing the blade to capture most of Sanji's attention.

"My pet, you've disobeyed me once again , and disregarded my wishes. I am disappointed and angry with you," Gin whispered, dark eyes flashing with malevolence.

Sanji felt himself tremble upon hearing those words, shaking his head slightly, wanting to forcefully protest that he was no one's pet. Or that he had done anything to earn this twisted attention. He didn't even know who the man was! He didn't even know his name! He'd never seen him before yesterday! He pulled at his hands, but the ropes that had them tied to the metal of his headboard kept them in place. When Gin shifted up to his knees, his dark eyes trailing down the length of Sanji's upper torso, the blond managed to bring up a leg and kick out.

Gin absorbed the blow to the face, growled low and caught the offending leg. Before Sanji could shift his other leg to do it again, Gin forced the first leg back so that his knee hit Sanji's own chest, and pushed his heel up into the air. Then he drew the blade swiftly and deeply through the muscle and tendons just above the inside of his knee, severing the ability to lift and use the leg properly again.

Behind his gag, Sanji screamed. As he moved in life-threatening struggle, kicking wildly with his other leg while the other one lay useless and spewing blood, Gin licked his lips, caught the other leg and twisted his body around it to effectively pin it under one arm. In a fluid motion, he drew the blade over the same tendons and muscle of his other leg. In one utterly painful movement, Sanji lost the ability to use that leg as well. The pain and shock in having such injuries done to him so maliciously caused a shockwave to his thoughts. For a few moments, he blindly struggled against his restraints, twisting his body in an effort to throw Gin off and away from him.

Gin righted himself and growled, beady eyes wide with warning as he crawled over Sanji once more, a hand clamping down over Sanji's nose and gagged mouth. "Shhh," he warned, knife against his lips in warning. "You cry out to alert the others, and I assure you, your death won't be pretty. There aren't enough women here to satisfy those that hadn't had one in months—you'll compensate for them, for at least fifty other men. I wouldn't even feel a thing in giving you up, you traitorous whore."

Sanji couldn't breathe around the fingers that kept his nostrils clamped shut. And it was so difficult to breathe effectively around the ball of material crammed in his mouth. Panic, terror and pain made it hard to avoid swallowing it, his mouth and throat utterly dry and irritated. His mind shuttered; he couldn't, for the life of him, even remember his own name or status. His eyes were nearly blind with crazed fear, but somewhere it registered Gin's threat. For a few moments, he struggled with himself. If he couldn't fight off one man, how could he fight off fifty? He didn't think that Gin was lying—any man that was willing to cut him, to hurt him in the way that Gin had couldn't be trusted.

Seeing that he was going to get his way, Gin smiled once more.

-

The horror and pain had left him in shock. Heavy and blinding shock that kept Sanji still and quiet as Gin grunted and groaned above him. The smell of him was hideous, the feel of his body just as horrid, and feeling everything below his waist was just as torturous. His legs were hot with agony, and tingling painfully with the loss of blood—it was similar to having a limb fall asleep and roughly coaxed back to life. The bed was wet and moist with his blood, and while Sanji registered that, he struggled not to register anything else.

Gin's skin was heated and sweaty. His face was strained, tendons in his neck rigid as his full lips pulled back in an almost painful grimace. Every grunt he made seemed to vibrate Sanji's insides with intense disgust. Sanji never thought this would happen to him; never had he imagined the very thought of it every happening to men. He'd always (and rather ignorantly, he now realized) thought that this violent and horrid coupling between men was only a tall tale.

It was pain, shame and horror rolled into one fiery hot explosion that was just as similar as the splitting sensation he'd felt when Gin entered him. Gin's hands were all over him—as if he were sharing this experience fondly with a willing lover.

In between his grunts and sighs, Gin continued to talk nonsense to him. Through his numb and paralyzed haze, Sanji found strength to focus in on his grimacing face. He couldn't feel his fingers or hands—but he felt minute flashes of raw burning whenever he stretched out or pulled on tired, strained muscles. His shoulders were cramping, his throat bared as he strained his head back—as if trying to keep that part of him from Gin's reach. The material in his mouth continued to keep him aware that he was a swallow away from choking. The gag rubbed at the corners of his mouth—tight around his jaw.

He thought he heard a whimper, high-pitched and girlish, and felt his entire being freeze. But Gin's hands distracted him. He moved to plant his heels on the bed to push off, but the loss of control in his legs prevented that small movement. He cried out in frustration and horror, the sound muffled. At that same movement, the balled material slipped into his throat, catching the delicate flap of his epiglottis. Instantly he choked—his eyes bulged as he gagged and coughed violently, straining upward as his hands caught tight against the restraints. Pressure made his face red, lungs tight—Sanji wanted to claw at his throat, registering death by asphyxiation as Gin finally climaxed.

The girlish whimper rose with distress, forcing Sanji to realize that they weren't alone. Somewhere deep within his mind, he saw large black eyes underneath thick straight bangs. Gin reached up to sweep his fingers beyond the gag and pulled the suffocating material out of Sanji's mouth. The first gasp of air was loud and dry, Sanji's eyes burning before he fell into choking coughs that Gin immediately muffled with the palm of his hand. It was torturous—his throat and mouth was dry, his lungs demanding needed air.

The panic started to subside once his mind and body realized that he could breathe clearly. Still, his heart was slamming hard and fast within his chest, the strong tingle of pain in his legs slowly pulling up to his hips. Gin focused on him, beady black eyes staring down into Sanji's wide, dilated blue. Though his eyes watered and burned, Sanji stared straight up at him. Mortification and horror made his face screw up into a grimace. Gin finally removed his hand from his face.

Soon, Sanji began to hear the small shifts of movement from somewhere in his room. The hiccup and sniffle. The dry rasp of breath. His eyes widened with horror. Gin shifted back onto his heels to look over his shoulder. He then wrapped his fingers under the dripping ruin of Sanji's legs, testing the depth of the swollen injuries and causing the blond to cry out as salt and sensation caused his legs to jerk in reflexive action.

"My new pet," Gin whispered, drawing his hands up to lick his fingers. Sanji stared at him in silence, utterly disgusted at his actions and words. Gin sucked his own fingers, murmuring in approval. Then he pulled Sanji's torn shirt together, covering most of his nakedness with the material. "You are useless, now. Pity. I could've taken you with me after Don Kreig finished up with this place. But I could not trust you after seeing you with _him_."

Sanji's head whirled. He was dazed all of a sudden—intense fog sweeping over him. Thoughts of a dead Nami, who must have suffered as he did by Gin's hands. Of little Bizette, who was going to suffer the same fate. It all overwhelmed his sense of physical injury.

He heard himself whisper," I've done nothing to deserve this. I've done nothing to anger you. I don't even know who you are! I've never seen you before!"

Gin's hands wrapped around his throat. For the third time within the space of an hour, Sanji found himself struggling to breathe. "You've taken company with the guard! Twisting and writhing with shameless and wanton behavior in front of my own eyes! You flaunt your devotion to him without thinking how much you've hurt me!"

Sanji shook his head wildly, wanting to cry out. Yanking at the ropes that rubbed his wrists raw. His mind was utterly confused—he had no idea what Gin was talking about. _Whom _he was talking about. Yet in this moment, Sanji had to think of every conversation, every interaction he'd had with everybody. The only true interaction was with Nami. But Gin wasn't giving female appropriations—he was giving a male. And while Sanji thought of all the males he'd come into contact with, his mind simply couldn't imagine the grave crime that was unforgivable in Gin's deranged mind.

Despite being choked, he managed to protest, "I don't know what you're talking about! You're fucking insane!"

Gin released him, growling low as he shoved his face against Sanji's.

"You'll not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner again. I don't like it when you refuse, or when you speak to me in such a shameless way. You'll speak to me properly, and without any impudence. Is this in any way unclear?"

Sanji shook his head wildly, unable to comprehend how this man thought the way that he did. "You're fucking insane! Fucking _cracked_! I'll speak whatever it is I want! I don't answer to you!"

"Such rebellion from somebody is who is utterly useless!"

"The sun burned out your fucking brain! You're _crazed_!"

"I'll teach you to disrespect me! I, your master and your savior! I was the one that plucked you from the ravages of your home! I sheltered and protected you, and here you rebel against me with your affections to another!"

"What are—?!"

Then they heard it. Heavy footfalls that entered the beach house. Gin stilled, then worked quickly. He was off the bed with a light jump, pulling up his trousers and underwear without cleaning himself off. Sanji lifted his head, struggling for air that didn't want to cooperate with him, watching as Gin stalked to a corner of his room. Horror bloomed within him upon seeing Bizette, tied and gagged as he was. Gin pulled out the knife from earlier, eyes gleaming demonically as he jumped onto the bed, whispering harshly to the little girl. Bizette uttered no sound at all, Sanji watching in mute horror as Gin shoved her against his side.

The heavy footfalls neared, and Sanji knew without a doubt that they were coming directly to his room. Gin cut the ropes, releasing him without warning and forcing his arms down. Sanji's mind screamed as Gin tore the gag off of him. In moments, he drew the blankets over all of them. Bizette was shoved hard against Sanji's naked hip, and he squirmed as sensation made his arms burn with returning blood flow.

Gin curled over his body, no doubt smothering Bizette with his weight. His face was pressed against Sanji's neck. It was an intimate position that one could clearly see from the door. It made his skin crawl. Softly, to Sanji's ears only, he whispered, "One wrong word will have this child's death."

Sanji was paralyzed. The footfalls stopped outside his door. Terror, the need for safety and comfort all crashed within him—like the waves he could hear on the beach. The door opened. Sanji's mind screamed continuously as the situation and traumas he'd endured minutes earlier made it impossible to think. But the thought of the small girl he could feel pressed obediently to his side had him racked with panic.

Zoro became visible from the doorway. Sanji knew the other could see the telltale shape of another form over him. His skin was clammy, damaged throat tight as he saw the guard's angled face draw with confusion and surprise. Sanji's eyes spoke of his terror. He tried to scream at Zoro with his mind, to tell him that he was in mortal danger. Couldn't the man smell the blood that had been spilt? Couldn't he see the stained blankets? Couldn't he sense the horror and sickness of a deranged man?

Zoro's eyes were narrowed and hard, lips drawing into a thin line. "You're late, cook. They want you in the kitchen."

Sanji couldn't speak. He felt his face screw up with a pleading, desperate expression. Too afraid to cry out or even answer, for the fear of Bizette's life.

He felt Gin's knife against the jutting angle of his hip—prodding him to answer. But he was too afraid to say the wrong thing. Zoro's eyes dropped to the floor, and Sanji could tell Zoro could see Gin's boots there. For a moment, Zoro's face scrunched with surprise, but the look he sent Sanji was unreadable. Sanji felt his eyes burn with desperate emotion. He yearned with all his heart and soul for Zoro to realize that he was in danger.

Gin shifted with another painful jab with his knife. In his moment of distress, Sanji could actually feel the man's rising ire the longer Zoro stood in the doorway.

Finally, Zoro shifted to move. Sanji couldn't repress the small whine of anguish, Zoro shooting him another unreadable expression before walking away with loud stomps of his boots.

"_Zoro_—!" Sanji heard himself whisper, not fully realizing he'd done so out loud. He couldn't lift his voice higher than that. "_Come back_—! Zoro!"

Gin tossed the blankets off as Zoro's footfalls grew distant. The beach house's door opened and shut as Gin tossed a half smothered Bizette aside. The little girl's eyes were glazed, wet with tears. Sanji was struck with horror at that moment, the thought of being the cause of her murder flared within him.

Horribly, he could hear the slaves outside whispering frantically to each other. They knew what was going on—the strong men that worked the fields could no doubt hear what was happening through his open window, and he struggled to keep himself from crying out to them. He heard their depreciating whispers—he could feel their scorn and feelings of justice earned; a few were afraid that what was happening to him would happened to them. He heard one set of footfalls that fell right outside his window before hurrying off.

Everything crashed into blinding sensation as Gin slammed the knife deep into his chest. Bizette's eyes widened, her gagged mouth opening but no sound emerging. Before Sanji could even give a sound, Gin released his knife and reached out, twisted Sanji's head sharply. A series of loud and unmistakable cracks shattered the tense silence as vertebra snapped under abnormal strength.

All sensation was lost. A choked sigh left him as he faced Bizette in an angle that was abnormal. She stared back in muted horror.

Sanji lost all control of his body—but he was still alive. Slowly strangling with the position his windpipe had been forced into. An intense feeling of defeat numbed his mind. Amazingly, appallingly, he could still hear Gin speak. A low whisper with an intense calm tone. Sanji couldn't feel his body—he found it hard to focus. Bizette's eyes were dark and sharp as she stared at him.

For a moment, Sanji faded away from the scene. His mind still registered noises, Gin's strained whispers and grunts signaling actions Sanji couldn't see or guess the nature of. There was another series of pops and cracks as his head was forcefully handled to face Gin. With this movement, air swept down his mangled throat; an almost useless action. It only allowed him to live. Gin's demoniacal face was there in Sanji's fading vision.

"You belong to me, now," Gin whispered, eyes gleaming. His own shaking hands lifted—there was a lumpy, bloody clump in his thin fingers. Sanji's mind refused to admit he was seeing his own heart. Because it wasn't possible. It wasn't possible to still be alive with his chest wide open, rib bones forced apart from the sternum, his heart sliced out from the protection and surrounding of muscle and bone.

Nothing but an overwhelming buzzing sound registered as Gin brought the warm, spurting organ to his mouth, teeth flashing before sinking deep.

Gin's face was demonic as Sanji heard him hiss, blood stained mouth eery in the moonlight. "Your heart belongs to me, now. Your strength and soul. You'll come to me with every return you make to this world. I'll always have what is mine."

Then he stilled. He lifted his head and straightened, black eyes gleaming suddenly with a cautious brightness. To himself, he muttered, "It knows. It will kill me. I am only sorry for getting caught. But I don't regret taking him for mine. _Always _mine. He was my one kindness. It would have been an insult to my character to have not forcefully taken what treasure was presented to me."

All apprehension of the world left Sanji at that moment. Sound, sight failed—until he found himself staring at Zoro's horror-filled face. Smoke, flames and screams edged the permanently fading noises around him until there was nothing more but muted quiet. He watched in thoughtless silence as Zoro drew near him, anguished eyes taking in the gruesome mutilation. He himself was bloodied and soiled, but Sanji could tell, in a moment of clarity, that it wasn't his blood. When Zoro realized that Sanji was still alive, the utter torment that filled every feature was enough to register within the darkness of silence and disassociation of Sanji's dying mind. For a moment, Sanji watched Zoro's hands lift and shake as they fell onto his face. He couldn't feel it—couldn't even remember what touch felt like. Zoro was speaking, but Sanji couldn't hear or process what was being said. Zoro's agonized expression were all Sanji saw before the brief flick of his thumbs drew over his eyelids, forcing them closed. With that, Sanji finally felt himself die.

-

In the present, Sanji remembered none of this. In the present, he stared at the utterly solid and still form of the demon that stood within the center of his apartment. Breathing in a slow, harsh manner as he stared at Sanji with burning malevolence. The air was heavy with tension—and Sanji wasn't sure what was going to happen next. He simply stayed within sight of Gin, smoking up the last of his precious tobacco. He'd learned that Gin would leave him alone if he didn't try to escape. Sanji had given up after his last attempt, jittery and still suffering with a headache that was amplified by his smoking. But it soothed his nerves.

He scanned his apartment, seeing the mess that had been made with their fights. Gin was strong and abnormally so. Sanji didn't consider himself a physical weakling, but the other was faster, stronger and every hit he managed to land was utterly painful. Sanji wasn't a seasoned fighter by any means, but he knew enough in how to defend himself. Maybe that was his weak point; maybe it contributed to his every loss to Gin's rage.

Sanji was angry and frustrated; even a little hurt. Because Zoro wasn't there. Because he felt abandoned and betrayed, and it burned at him. As he smoked and stared at the silent demon that never blinked or budged, Sanji cursed Zoro in his mind. Yes, they'd had an agreement based on mutual needs, but...but there were _feelings_. Sanji's feelings. His hurt, confused and stubborn feelings that he felt were obvious to Zoro if Zoro weren't so self-absorbed.

But then, if Zoro didn't return those feelings, then there wasn't a point to _having _his feelings. He glared at Gin, who was absolutely motionless. A breathing statue. He was at a loss of what to do. His head fell back against the wall with a heavy thump, smoke drifting into his eyes. He couldn't understand a word Gin had said to him, ceasing to speak. Sanji had no idea why and what the man wanted from him.

He was feeling incredibly abandoned and helpless, and he hated to acknowledge both. He reached up to grip his hair with both hands, gritting on the cig but never taking his eyes from Gin. He tensed suddenly, hearing heavy footfalls in the hall stairway. For the countless time, he felt expectation fill him, trying not to admit his rising hope in that it was Zoro. But once more, he felt disappointment and irritation when the man tromped on down the hall.

He felt unbelievably frustrated with himself. To get this far in life without help or dependence on any individual, and then to find himself feeling needy of some idiotic moron that had to be taught everything they'd ever done in bed. An idiotic moron that was cowardly, selfish, incapable of feeling and a regrettable choice that was currently battling the decision to buy the pirate doll for top spot.

He slumped against the wall once again, exhaling around the dwindling cig between his lips.

Hurt slashed through his chest, even as his own pride battered it back from the forefront. He lifted his eyes to Gin, frustration for the unwavering stare and the lack of explanation making him focus away from his feelings for Zoro.

"Why won't you say anything?!" he snarled, startled with his own voice. "Say something! Fuck you and fuck your stupid face!"

Gin said nothing. Staring in silence.

Sanji slumped against the wall, feeling exhausted. Yelling made his headache worse. He sighed and picked up another cigarette.

-

Zoro, with Luffy and Ussop in tow, burst through the broken doors of the shop. But he came to a stop upon the sight of a woman lowering a box of books to the floor upon their loud arrival. Her eyes, just visible underneath a sweep of blunt cut bangs, widened only a fraction before filling with calm.

"Sorry!" Luffy said, standing abreast of Zoro. His scarred face was bright with determination, his entire purpose filled with a mission that he was only too eager to be a participant of. Ussop stood behind them, bravado overexaggerating his own posture. "We need to do a few things. No one was here earlier, but we don't have time to waste..."

She tilted her head thoughtfully, lips pulling into a knowing smile. "Ah. I suppose _you _were the ones that broke down the door earlier...I thought it was odd that nothing was stolen. My name is Robin. My father owns this store."

"Look, it's about a pirate doll that was bought a few days ago," Zoro interrupted, making her frown. "Do you know anything about it?"

She opened her mouth to reply when Ussop cried, "It's life or death! Lives are at stake! We're going to stop it—well, Zoro and Luffy mainly will while I keep watch...er...just...in case they need me, but I doubt it because—!"

"Ussop! _Shut up_! Look, do you know about it or not, lady?" Zoro asked in irritation, stepping toward her. "Because if you don't, you need to get your old man down here right away, or otherwise tell me where he is so I can go to him."

When she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. She sat atop of the box she'd been holding earlier, getting comfortable. "Yes. I know of the doll you speak of. Unfortunately, my father has selective hearing and had gone against my wishes in keeping it out of the shop. What would you like to know?"

"Look—ridiculous as it sounds, the guy inside of it is out. All this shit—it's happening. The guy that bought it—he's missing. And—and I know it's because of that fucking doll that he bought here!"

Her eyes clouded, and her lips tightened. Her posture was rigid, but a finger trailed up to touch the length of her long, dark hair. "He's found him, then. After all these years, Gin has been reunited with his lost possession."

Blank stares made her smile slightly. Luffy squinted at her. "Huh? W-what do you mean...?"

"You know then, lady, of the doll?" Ussop asked shakily. But he still retained his tough posture. "How do we put 'im back? Because Zoro and Sanji are just not the same anymore. And Zoro's really bothered with Sanji being missing because—!"

"Shut up! NO! It's not like that!" Zoro yelled in embarrassment. Ussop squeaked and wheeled back to put distance between himself and the red faced iron-worker.

Luffy gave him a puzzled look. "But Zoro...don't you want to eat really good meals again? Isn't that why you like Sanji so much?"

Zoro paused to think that one over, Ussop relaxing slightly. But he gave Zoro a puzzled look, wondering quietly over his reaction when it should have been obvious that the loss of Sanji feeding him was the more troubling deprivation.

The woman gave them a sad smile. "I'm sorry. Once Gin is out, he cannot return to his prison. Gin's soul is demonic: he accepted a devil's curse many years before that allowed him unearthly powers. His curse is a wretched one; to kill and ravage as many souls as he can to satisfy his demon benefactor. For every hundred souls he escorts to Hell, he is allowed one of his own. This man, Sanji, will always be his because of this."

She was met with blank looks that slowly shifted into that of disbelieving and doubt. She knew that the story was a hard one to accept, but she was waiting for the moment when she was pressed for more information.

"...So..." Luffy started, then trailed off.

"...So...?" she prompted.

"...Uh...what...what happens now?"

"Well...it's up to Gin—it's such a shame," Robin then said with a sigh. "For years I tried to keep the doll locked and out of sight, fearing that one day, Sanji would come to find him. When he becomes of age when he'd first passed, he would be drawn to Gin—that is because he belongs to Gin. Even if time had passed, and his soul had lost the memory of that commitment, he would return and live life after life, looking and reuniting with Gin."

"But..." Zoro's face was that of extreme distress.

She smiled sadly. "And you...I remember you..."

"...What?"

"All your feeling, all your regret that morning...you'll spend your own eternity trying to fix what you felt you were responsible for."

Zoro stared blankly at her.

Ussop was front and center in moments. "How do you know all this? How do we know you're just selling us stories, freaking us out?"

Her eyes glinted. "I was there when the witch imprisoned Gin."

Zoro's voice was heavy, even as Luffy suddenly broke out in goosebumps. "_What_?! _You _were there?"

"You couldn't have lived this long!" Ussop exclaimed. "Zoro said that Sanji said that he was told that the doll was from the early 1880's!"

"We have our ways," she added, lifting an eyebrow.

"Bullshit!" Luffy cried, but he was grinning, already accepting her words. "Prove it."

"I was...well...I was Bizette." Her eyes shadowed heavily, and suddenly her face took on immense weight. Even as the name rang familiar with Zoro, he just couldn't place where he'd heard it. It was familiar in such a way that his entire being jolted. "My first nanny, Kureha, was a practiced witch. I was raised more by her and the others than by my own mother. I was very young—too young to fully understand everything. But after what I had seen...something you will not remember, Zoro, because it was too horrible for you to ever want to remember...I had to do something. Kureha recognized a demonic presence within the bloody chaos on that plantation that early morning; while slaves were slaughtered, women were raped, material possessions pillaged, she went in search of it and found Gin. In the process, she found me. He'd already claimed this young man, and his crew mates had already decimated the plantation—and you as well, Zoro.

"But in the melee, when everything was in such great chaos, with the energy of everyone's panic and the bloodlust of the pirates, Kureha was able to slay Gin's overly strong physical body and was able to capture his soul within my doll, which Gin had allowed me to have to take with me. Eventually, years after I was able to accept and overcome what I had seen and experienced that morning, I was able to tell her what he'd done. She locked him away, knowing that that young man's soul would eventually return to search for Gin. All Gin needed to manifest physically once more was to be within the presence of his possession."

"But...that stupid necklace...I removed it," Zoro confessed guiltily. "It was a stupid story! I didn't believe any of it...only that it gave me the creeps. It was an accident, really."

Robin smiled slightly. "The necklace was just a made-up tale my father gave to inspire intrigue. The key for Gin's release was Sanji himself. I...am guessing that he has manifested."

"...Yeah...I guess. But...that story reeks so much of bullshit. It sounds like a made-up tale!" Zoro growled in exasperation.

"Take it as you will," she said with a gleam in her eyes. "I cannot convince you otherwise what you don't want to hear, accept or remember."

Luffy stared at Zoro. "So you already lived once?! Wow...that's really cool, Zoro."

"She's lying! This is bullshit! She _sells _bullshit!"

"I—I believe her," Ussop said shakily, but he resumed his tough-guy stance. "I can tell when people are lying. And she's not lying."

"This is stupid! You all concocted a stupid story and robbed Sanji blind, trying to convince us of witchcraft and bullshit! Your family probably murdered and chopped him up somewhere! He didn't even have much to do that! He didn't even—!"

"Take it as you will," she said forcefully, and Zoro felt an overwhelming sensation of calm flow through him. When she judged that he was going to stay silent, Luffy's eyebrows rising high on his forehead as he sensed abnormal tension from her, she continued on. "Just know that when Gin decides to slay your friend's physical body, his soul will continue to come back to the physical plane to search for Gin once more—and have the cycle begin anew. Now that Gin has been released from his prison, he'll wander the world to continue fulfilling his benefactor's needs. But there is a way to stop this cycle. Do you want to hear it?"

Zoro stared at her in silence. He didn't believe a word she'd just said. Uncertainty and disbelief warred within him, making it hard for him to focus on Ussop's urgings and Luffy's continued acceptance. But all it took was seeing Sanji in his mind's eye, suffering some fate that Zoro didn't even want to imagine. And all his warring feelings and denial made it difficult to continue thinking that what he was being told was bullshit.

With an intensely frustrated expression, but with a very stubborn stance, Zoro growled out, "...yes."

Her eyes grew sad once more.


	6. Part Six

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Warning: Horror, slash, death of characters, OOC AU

A/N: It was fun, as always, writing this story! Mainly cuz...I dunno...it just was. And for my first OP it was received rather well. Though I have doubts with keeping the characters, um..._recognizable_. Utter and inexcusable fail. And GIN! ZOMG, GIN! I FAILED YOU THE MOST! But thanks for the reviews, for the hits! _Everything_! And, uh...I know I made a promise for romance, but...um...it's there. Really. You just have to look _reaaaaaaally _close. (Grimace) Yah. I know. I failed at that, too.

A/N: Fayeri: Wee, thanks for your review! I'm glad that you think they were, um, somewhat in character. And I know I totally ruined Gin cuz...yah. He's like, the exact opposite of what Gin really is, but I do that. I completely mutilate characters so that I can write squicky things such as this fic. I have high hopes somebody will come along and give Gin a better character than me. He's soooo completely ignored in fics. (Sniffle) As for Gin's background, I'd already planned on a short story that leaves everything up in the air. As much as Gin's background would be delightful in a maniac way to explore, I can't. Hopefully, the end of this chapt. reveals a few things. O.o I'm glad that you found Z a character interesting enough to overcome personal interests...I've always liked characters like him. The reason Gin lost scary factor was cuz, well...I guess just reading this chapt will explain. He started out as a 'thing' and came out _this_. (Points to the end of the story). Which was cool. I mean, I don't think I could continue with not explaining stuff to death. But I'm glad you liked what you'd read so far! Hopefully the ending doesn't totally ruin everything and your opinion of my fic, even though I'd...completely battered everybody...

The Pirate In The Doll:

Part Six

Sanji awoke to an intense silence. A studious glance around revealed no sign of Gin. It was nearing midnight. Sanji stretched his legs out in front of him, feeling cramped and stiff from sitting on the floor for so long. He rose from the floor, wincing at the extremely dry and foul taste in his mouth. He stretched out the kinks in his back and shoulders, then turned on the lamp. Everything was so still, so silent...but he had to guess that it was because everyone was asleep for the night.

He looked at the front door. He considered leaving when he decided that it wasn't worth engaging in another battle with the demon. The last battle they had, Gin had driven a bony elbow right into his lower back—it still ached with a fierceness that left him stiff. Sanji wouldn't be surprised if he found himself pissing blood. He needed to give himself a little more time before jumping into another fight.

Five minutes later, Sanji brushed his teeth over the sink. His toiletries had been scattered all around the apartment during one of the battles, and he'd found his toothbrush underneath the fallen bookcase. He had to wince over the intensely foul taste in his mouth, rinsing and repeating the entire process over again to feel somewhat clean again. It was mighty uncomfortable to feel the way his bladder reminded him that he hadn't relieved it, yet.

There still wasn't any sign of Gin, so he finished with his teeth and slowly made his way to the front door. He waited for a few moments, then opened the door. It screeched loudly, making him wince, waiting for Gin to pop up from out of no where. But when a minute drew into two without any sign of the man, Sanji slowly made his way to the bathroom.

He was unnerved by the utter silence and stillness of the entire floor. He had to shiver, jamming his hands under his armpits and clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. He paused in mid-step, craning his head and straining his ears. It was possible that he couldn't hear anybody on the floor above and below. He had to wonder if this was one of Gin's tricks, and he had to wonder why Gin felt the need to do it. He turned at the sound of a slight creak—narrowing his eyes, he stared at the empty hall behind him, and felt himself jolt slightly at the sound of a boat horn in the distance.

The bathroom seemed ominous down the hall. But he continued on, every step he made creaking obscenely loud within the stillness. Once inside, he flicked on the lights and stepped forward, eying the toilets nearby. He then froze. The three corpses of a woman and her two children lay in disarray on the floor. The mother's hands were wrapped protectively around one child, but her head was twisted completely around, facing him. Her neck was completely mashed, as if massive weight had settled directly on top of that column, leaving no bone uncrushed. The child in her arms had a squashed skull—the brain was broken and exposed, blood matted hair darkening bright white. Her other child lay on his back, having suffered the same fate as his mother. He retched, backing out and slamming the door shut.

Once he had control over himself, Sanji glanced down the hall. It was so still and so silent that he could hear the venders outside shouting their wares. Sanji convinced himself that Gin was trying to trick him into thinking Sanji was all alone. With that, and with the hurtful pressure of his bladder influencing most of his thoughts, he reopened the bathroom door and walked in. It felt very uncomfortable walking around the corpses, but after he relieved himself he washed his hands and hurried out the door without looking at them once. Ten minutes later, he was at the top of the stairway—trying to convince himself to go.

But his feet were like lead. His body refused to obey the order to keep walking. With a low growl, Sanji turned and began the heavy walk back to his apartment. But he stopped outside of Zoro's, staring at the door with a conflicted expression. It really bothered him that Zoro hadn't come back. After all the time they'd spent together, Sanji just wasn't important to Zoro.

Wherever Gin was, Sanji hoped he stayed there.

But he glared at the door once more, balling his fists before turning and slowly walking away. Once inside, he turned to the kitchen and began to search for ingredients to make a small meal. Going through the process, he started to feel angry all over again. Doing such a menial task reminded him of all the meals he'd made for Zoro; the comfortable relaxation in doing something easy and quick, both of them talking about various things that gave them enough to know about the other on an easy front. Zoro would perch on top of the stools and drink his booze, lamenting about his job and lack of true destination in life, and Sanji would bitch and complain about rations and the restaurant's future. Afterward, they would share their bodies with each other and Sanji would pretend to be annoyed whenever Zoro passed out afterward, or Zoro would do his caress and slap thing, making them argue and fight and ready themselves for another round.

It all seemed to fake and ugly, now. Because it hurt to think that Sanji was nothing more than a convenience to Zoro, when he felt it was so much more—

"This is stupid," he growled, chopping through the last of his vegetables. "Stupid..._stupid_!"

Frying up the last of his packaged meat, he scowled at the stove. "Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck Gin. I'm not some fucking weakling that can't take care of himself. Not that I was thinking I needed fucking rescuing or something like that—! It's just—! The point of it all! You like somebody, you want to be with them no matter what—! Fine! Fuck him! Shitty loser!"

He flung his wooden spoon with a sudden twist of his body. He and Gin were startled when the spoon bounced off Gin's head.

Seeing how blood stained Gin was at that moment, Sanji stared at him in silence. He was quite positive that Gin wasn't like that earlier. But the question for Sanji at that moment was _how _Gin had gotten into that state.

Gin narrowed his eyes. But he closed the door. Sanji watched him and matched the expression.

"That..._hurt_," Gin growled.

Sanji smirked. Encouraged by this admission, he reached back, grabbed the frying pan and flung it at Gin. The heavy pan bounced off his shoulder, half-cooked meat flopping to the floor. Gin snarled at him and lunged forward, Sanji immediately preparing for the attack. He was a little familiar now with Gin's style of violence, and was prepared for the flash of his weapons, the two cannon ball tipped _tonfas _that he wielded. Gin used his entire body to keep the weight of the weapon moving with its own momentum, using his thin arms to guide the direction. The lunge of the legs, followed by the push of a wrist had one ball slamming hard into the kitchen counters, cracking through wood and upsetting various containers.

While in that movement, he used the momentum to push the other forward, nearly knocking Sanji's head off his shoulders hadn't the blond ducked and jumped into Gin, slamming a shoulder into the man and knocking him to the floor. He used that movement to roll off Gin and get space between them while the demon lunged to his feet.

Sanji realized that the man was more solid than ever—that he wasn't passing through various objects as he did hours before. Now, the man rushed through cookbooks and parts of the broken radio, controlling a swing of one _tonfa _in Sanji's direction. Quickly, Sanji lunged to the left, catching sight of the other weapon that Gin used, stepping back and around in a side-step that had the _tonfa's _weight grazing his shoulder. Thrown off balance, Sanji jerked himself to the side, hit the wall, and forced himself to duck when Gin kicked outward with one leg. Sanji thought that he'd be thrown off-balance with that move, considering both of his _tonfas' _weight forced forward, but Gin twisted, relying on the weapons' swinging weight to propel himself into a smooth back flip that allowed him to swing one arm, the baton catching Sanji by the back of one knee and sending him crashing face first into the table.

Instantly he howled, feeling as if his entire face had just been rearranged back into his own brain. He cringed immediately after that, waiting for the next blow and hearing the shift of the floor underneath him as Gin relaxed behind him. He felt the heavy weight of one of a _tonfa _rest along his shoulder, Gin chuckling deeply.

"It is pity that you cannot match me," he said, first words of the day. Sanji had noticed that even his sentences were longer, that it didn't take as long for Gin to spit out words in broken English as he had when he'd first started speaking. As if...almost as if Gin had gained strength in the ability to do so. Which was an odd thing to think. "But, you improve. I think that you should stop relying on legs, and use hands."

Sanji let his hands fall away from his face, no longer interested in repressing the drip of blood from his nose, and feeling it swell right over the bridge of his nose and eyes. He grit his teeth, feeling murderous at that moment; that damn strength and skill Gin had with his _tonfas _kept Sanji from getting an upper hand. He'd beaten taller, bigger and more aggressive men in street fights with his kicks alone; he hated feeling so helpless when his opponent was so much more stronger than him.

He heard the shift in the floorboards once more, and felt his skin crawl when Gin's breath hit the back of his exposed neck. He wanted to leap away, but he felt that by doing so would give Gin satisfaction and glee.

"I been gone...I have a duty. You'll notice that you are the only one here. My tricks, my ways of other...otherworldly gestures are no more. The more I am with you, the more I am human again. That old witch may have slain my first body, but not my soul."

Sanji crinkled his brow, feeling his eyebrow lift with skepticism. He shook his head slightly. "Crazy bastard," he muttered.

Without warning, Gin slammed his head off the table. For a few moments, the world spun in shades of black and grey, blood rushing immediately to the area where skin had been briefly crimped between his own head and the wood of the table.

"No matter...you are pitiful now. It shames me to think that I'd thought you so valuable. Maybe you are right. Only the insane would think the pitiful would be worth a death."

"Fuck you. Fucking crazy-ass piece of shit Frenchie bastard."

Gin snorted. But he began moving. "I need away, now. Thirty-four is all I need to satisfy my...benefactor. I have not yet explored the first three floors. Oh, yes, Sanji...if I should come across your cowardly Zoro...I'll make sure you can watch. Heh."

Sanji turned, forehead furrowed as Gin's words swept over him in a confusing array. Gin left the apartment, opening and closing the door gently, walking down the hall with a set course. Hearing him use the hall stairway, Sanji frowned.

'Thirty-four?' he thought. _Thirty-four what?_

He picked himself up from the floor, in utter confusion over Gin's words and for the fact that the silence and stillness of the entire floor didn't seem so unreal, anymore. Hastily, he hurried out from his apartment, still dripping blood from his nose and feeling areas of his face swelling. Without much thought, he rushed to the first door in the hall adjacent to his and pushed it open. There were four people laying on the floor—all of them dead in the same manner as the woman and children in the bathroom. Rushing to the next apartment gave him the same sight. Sanji rushed from broken door to open door, finding that every occupant on his floor had been slaughtered. Amidst the stench of death, there were evidence that dinner had been interrupted. Radios had been muted. Sewing abandoned. Books forgotten. Blood mixed with clothing, and outstretched hands curled around children and loves in death.

Walking back to his own apartment, Sanji was still trying to convince himself that it was all a dream.

-

While Luffy and Ussop loaded the rumbling vehicle outside of the back entrance, Robin held both of Zoro's hands, palms up. While Zoro was impatient to leave, seeing that he had a task to see through, Robin had distracted them with the task while she played with Zoro's hands. Zoro didn't know why he continued to stand there. But there was something in her presence, her eyes holding his with a sort of power that he couldn't identify. While utterly aware that the clock was ticking, he was also aware that there was something she was trying to tell him. He just didn't know _what_.

"There's strength in these hands," she murmured, studying his palms. "But here...this line here tells me that you lack destination. There will always be turmoil and confliction in the choices that you make."

Zoro scoffed, Robin tightening her grip. Frowning as he realized he couldn't pull his hands away, Zoro glared at her. She looked at him, her eyes dark and deep as she continued. "And not a very long life line."

"...This is so dumb..."

"And your love line...well...it's the same length as your life line." Robin's eyes were smirking as she released him. But then they turned serious. "It's not that hard to open your mouth to say something that you'll never have the chance to say again, Zoro. When Gin decides to end his life, what will you feel then?"

Zoro shrugged a shoulder. He stared down at his palm. "I don't think that way."

"How will it end, Zoro?"

"...I...I don't know."

"There was a choice you'd made that morning; something that brought you back at the exact same time. Don't you think that its fate?"

"Coincidence, maybe."

"What scares you the most, Zoro?" she finally asked, almost impatiently.

"Failure," Zoro said.

"Just failure?"

"Well...uh...yeah? I mean..."

"Do you think you've failed now?"

"I haven't done anything," Zoro pointed out, rather testily.

She nodded. "I know."

Frowning, Zoro lifted his hand to study his palm. Then he scowled at her. "Wait. There's something that you're not saying, is there?"

"The point of it all is that...you're afraid. Afraid to tell him, even when you know you won't see him again. And that is what will continue to hold you back. That is where you will continue to fail, Zoro."

"What kinda stupid point is that?!" he asked angrily. "This sounds so stupid right now...why am I still here listening to you?!"

"Why _is _that, Zoro?" Robin tilted her head. She looked over at the clock. "How long has it been since you've last seen him?"

"Uh...well...uh...yesterday? Why? I mean, I...have this, uh, habit of getting lost. Hell, it's nothing anyway! Like the bastard wants me around! Bitch, bitch, bitch, that's all he does whenever I'm around!"

"Does it hurt, Zoro? When he does this to you?"

"Well, it's annoying..."

"Why does it hurt, Zoro, when you feel nothing for him?"

Zoro jerked his hand away and turned away from her. "I don't know what you're talking about, and this is so fucking stupid—! Listen, lady, I have to do something. How do you take that thing down?! I want to fix this so my life can go on!"

Robin studied him for a few moments, then folded her arms behind her back. Her expression was grave. "There is a way to fix things, Zoro. It's easy...it's simple...you must confess your feelings to him. And have your feelings returned."

Zoro whirled around so quickly that he nearly bumped into a stack of boxes. "_What_?!"

"That's all you have to do, Zoro. That's the simplest way for Gin to release Sanji. It's entirely opposite of what Gin represents." Her lips curled. "Isn't it frustrating?"

"This is ridiculous! '_Feelings'_?! Hell! That's just—!" Zoro lowered his voice when Luffy looked over curiously, Ussop struggling under the weight of one box.

Robin nodded solemnly, never taking her eyes from his. "That's all, Zoro. Do you think you can do it?"

Zoro grit his teeth. He thought of Sanji at that moment, snapping and arguing with him. Irritating him with his gruff exterior and annoying him in that Sanji revealed nothing of his feelings for him. Incredible turmoil made his insides roil. If he confessed his feelings, what happened next?

Veins popped from his straining neck and flushed face. "That's so—! You're just fucking around with me, aren't you? Something like Gin, a demon guy that does all these otherworldly things, can be defeated by something as stupid as confessing _feelings_—!"

"I didn't say it would defeat Gin. That's something entirely different. I am only talking about releasing Sanji from his eternal bond with Gin." Robin gave him a studious expression, crossing her arms in front of her stomach. "To defeat Gin requires a large amount of power. Something you don't have. You cannot kill a demon."

Zoro stared at her for a few moments, then whirled away. "What happens after I say shit to Sanji? I mean...that's just—!"

"What happens next is up to you, Zoro." Robin tilted her head slightly, eyes growing more intense than before. "Maybe...maybe you should sign up for the military. I hear they have a very relaxing and very beautiful base out in Hawaii...Pearl Harbor is beautiful in the winter."

Zoro turned and looked at her, giving her an expression of disgust.

"With everything that is happening overseas, wouldn't it make sense? You'll have direction then, Zoro. Maybe...in a couple of years you can sign up for the Navy." Robin studied her fingernails, then looked up when Luffy and Ussop came marching back in, looking decidedly warmed up for more action. "You're finished already? That was quick. Thank you. Thank you very much."

-

Sanji stared out the window of his apartment, morosely scanning the streets. The deathly silence was utterly penetrating. He smoked with a sense of grief, seeing every one of Gin's victims in his mind's eye. It was at this moment that he felt utterly helpless—he could definitely go after Gin to try and stop him, but...there was a sense in being unable to do that. With every fight he had with Gin, he came away with an injury that was disabling. Right now, he was still recovering from the previous battle's injuries, and he wasn't sure what was going to happen next. There was definitely a feeling of impending doom with each imagined battle, and he hated feeling and thinking about it. It made him feel wimpy and weak; things that he thought he wasn't.

But he had to reason with himself—he wasn't a seasoned fighter. It wasn't as if he fought every day, and it wasn't as if he searched life purposefully for that. He fought only when he absolutely had to; to discourage street muggers, drunkards, violent customers. That was far and few in-between, but...

He exhaled slowly, staring down the lit streets below. He tried not to think of Zoro, but the green-haired man's image kept penetrating his thoughts. He was tired of thinking of him. He was utterly _tired_. Zoro was not coming back for him, and Sanji had to find a way to accept it. But the bitterness within him warred with his feelings of self-preservation.

With nicotine stained fingers, Sanji flicked ashes into a clay dish and stuck the filter-less end back into his mouth. The night was full of stars and moving clouds—it looked like a storm was trying to come into the city. Sanji watched them for awhile, feeling exhausted, sore and battered. Reaching over for the washcloth, he dabbed at his face once more, examining the faint stains of blood and then testing the swollen areas underneath his eyes and right cheek.

His lower back felt more sore than ever. He reached back to rub at it gingerly, wishing he were just as strong as Gin was. Gin didn't seem to be suffering from any injuries Sanji had managed to give him, and for that he felt extra-pissy.

He had to wonder what was going to happen in his future. Would Gin let him go? What was going to happen when the people of this building were finally found? It was starting to stink—the stench of death creeping slowly underneath his door. He tried to ignore it, focusing in on the smoke. Wondering why Gin wasn't letting him go made him wonder what was so damn special about himself. He snorted, flicking the ashes aside. Maybe Gin wanted a permanent cook while he went on his murderous rampages.

He was so intensely focused on the outside that he didn't see the door opening behind him, the window reflecting every action. He didn't see Gin sneaking in without a sound, shutting the door just as quietly as he'd opened it. He didn't hear the whisper of a metallic rasp as a knife was pulled from the kitchen counter.

Sanji brought the cigarette to his lips again and wondered if Zoro was thinking about him, wherever he was.

-

Zoro hid the evidence of his distress by shoving both hands into his pockets. The scene of a night earlier was brilliant, as if it had just happened minutes ago. Luffy was excited and Ussop was reluctant as they approached Sanji's apartment. Zoro watched them for any signs of apprehension or nervousness, but he had to keep his own in check—he didn't want to reveal his weakness. The floor was silent and still. While he thought it odd, there were more pressing matters that occupied his mind.

"Sanji!" Luffy called, knocking on the door. "_Hello_? You home?"

Ussop cringed, and nervously drummed his fingers together. "Erm..he's not...in a bad mood, is he?"

Zoro shrugged. Sweat had made his skin sticky and his chest was tight. He focused on the closed door and strained his ears to hear signs of movement.

Luffy moved to knock again, trying the knob just after. To Zoro's surprise, it opened right up. Luffy walked in, complaining, "Sanji! Zoro's worried about you! Hey, where are you?"

"Huh?! _No! _Just—!" Zoro pushed past Ussop's trembling form and barged in after Luffy to defend himself. He stopped short, Luffy calling Sanji's name, walking forward until stopping short.

Zoro was confused. There was no sign of blood, but the apartment was practically in shambles. There were body-sized holes in the walls, books were scattered everywhere, the table upset and things broken all around them. The kitchen had its cabinets hanging from mere nails, wood smashed and cracked, dishes and other kitchenware completely destroyed. Absently, he began to rub his arms against the immense chill in the air.

"Geez, it's _freezing _in here!" Ussop exclaimed, teeth chattering.

"Hey, Sanji?" Zoro heard Luffy ask, jerking his head around to face the doorway. "Oh, you're not Sanji...where's Sanji?"

"Luf—!" Zoro cut himself off as he glared at the tall, lone figure standing in the doorway. It definitely wasn't Sanji, but it was a human-version of the doll he'd first seen. All three of them stared in silence at the demon that stared right back at them. All were unnerved by the blood and matter that coated the cannon-ball tipped _tonfas _that were hanging from strong hands. His bloody footprints were very visible behind him.

Zoro was startled to see that the ghost was now solid and real—he could smell the man. Could hear him breathe normally, could see the way his veins pulsed at his exposed wrists. But his eyes had a shimmer of red to them, causing Ussop to squeal and hide behind them both while Luffy shivered in excitement. The man's gray and black clothing was stained with blood. While most of it had lost that intense red and looked eerily muddy, there was a great majority around his face, shoulders and hands that were vivid.

Full lips pulled back into a fierce grin, eyes glinting. Before either man could speak, Gin stepped out from the apartment, wood creaking slightly under the movement before silencing. Luffy performed a wild flail that earned Zoro a smack in the face.

"Whoa! NEAT! Is that him, Zoro!? _Huh_?! _Is _it?! HIM!? He's not a ghost, Zoro!" Luffy cried more excited than scared or alarmed, earning him an exasperated expression from Zoro.

"Sanji? Sanji, shitty bastard, where are you?!" Zoro demanded as he moved toward the bedspace, seeing movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled just in time to see Gin reach in and slam the door shut. Luffy spun around with a gasp, Ussop squeaking once more.

"Um...gee...why do you think he did that?" Luffy asked, finger in his nose. "Is he mad at you because of Sanji? Is this that pirate you were talking about? Gin? Is it? You didn't answer me yet, Zoro. Is this just another guy?"

Ignoring him, Zoro shouted, "Gin! Bastard! Don't you dare run away!"

He started toward the door when Luffy snatched his arm, abnormal strength squeezing in warning around his wrist. "Wait, Zoro...that's what he wants. We came here with a mission, right?"

"Dammit, Luffy, let me go—!"

"Let _us _go!" Ussop squeaked, fumbling for the lamp, then flopping over something he'd bumped into. "Gin doesn't want to fight—he wants to—_go_ _away_. He wants to go away to _sleep_. It's rather late, guys—oh, _wow_! Look at the time, it's almost one in the morning, good Lord, my bedtime was _hours _ago—!"

The door opened and shut quickly, causing all three of them to grow silent. Wood creaked slightly, the sound of metal against wood causing tension to harden their muscles. Frustrated with the lack of light in the apartment, Zoro squinted, unsure of the presence in the room. The moment he smelled sulphur and body odor was when he felt a heavy punch to his chest. He stumbled back, hearing Luffy grunt at that same moment. The moment he registered the noise, Zoro felt another punch down his side, Luffy crying out a moment later. Having no idea what was happening, only that they were under attack, Zoro struggled to reach out, trying to grasp at Gin.

"_Zoro_!?" Luffy cried out in panic, emitting another grunt.

Another punch to his chest, and Zoro managed to grab enough material to shove out, hearing the very human action of a man stumbling back. Before he could do anything else, Luffy leapt out with a growl, ripping the man out of Zoro's grasp and tossing him into the kitchen. Zoro had always thought Luffy's strength was abnormally strong for his build and size, but he was grateful for his interference. It meant a respite from the attack. But it also meant that Gin had enough time to slip away from them. Panting, Zoro touched the areas where he'd been struck and was horrified to feel the liquid warmth on his skin.

"Luffy! We've been stabbed! Maybe you should—"

"It's okay, Zoro. They ain't deep," Luffy reassured him with a great amount of confidence and unwavering calm. "But now I'm kinda pissed."

Unsure of what to say, Zoro grit his teeth, hearing nothing of Gin. The silence was heavy, the air extremely still and thick. A quiet suction of air from his left awarded him a clue in Gin's position. Lashing out, he caught the man upside the head, causing him to stumble. He then slammed his full weight into the man, forcing both of them to crash into the upended table. Zoro heard Luffy give an excited _whoop_!, moving to take over on Gin as the man thrashed with strength that had Zoro shoved away from him. He nearly tumbled over Ussop, who was crawling clumsily along the floor, panting as he sought escape.

Luffy cried out, but Zoro wasn't sure whether it was one of excitement or pain. The wild thrashing and crashing sounds of men engaged in battle was a familiar one, but also one that called him. He really wanted nothing more than to join Luffy, but he was also torn with wanting to go search for Sanji to complete his task.

"Zoro! _Go! _Find him! We'll be okay!" Luffy suddenly shouted, grunting a moment later as he found himself flying into the floor.

Zoro hesitated, watching as Gin rose, eyes glimmering red as he tossed away the sharp kitchen knife and aimed to dive at him. Zoro tensed before the man slammed into him, his strength catching Zoro off guard and off his feet. They both slammed into the floor, coming to a stop right up against a wall that had already been damaged by some previous fight. As plaster and pieces of wood fell around them, Zoro keeping Gin from choking him with his own hands curled around the demon's thin wrists, he stared up into a face maniacal with glee.

With some horror, he realized that Gin was lowering his head closer to his, his foul breath wafting over his face. He could smell blood and gore all over the man—along with the rotten stench of sulphur.

"You're a little too late," Gin whispered, the harsh sound making Zoro's stomach curl. "You should have been there...he screamed for you...over and over...just like the very first time."

With a feeling of white-hot rage, Zoro twisted sharply, tossing the demon off. At that point, Ussop was there, yelping as he forced himself from the floor and wrapped his limbs around one of the man's legs to bring him down. At the upset, Gin looked away from Zoro and had his full attention focused on Luffy as the man rebounded to tackle him once again.

With a grimace and a heavy reluctance, Zoro ran out of the apartment, hearing Gin's enraged screams.

-

He dashed from apartment to apartment, shouting Sanji's name. He heard Ussop and Luffy fighting valiantly with Gin, Gin's enraged screams of frustration and anger ringing through the entire building. It was insanely eerie how Zoro ran into various dead bodies—all of them in gory disarray. With each room that revealed nothing of Sanji, Zoro found himself growing desperate. He kept hearing Gin whispering to him, that shadowed face of his practically radiating with glee.

He told himself it was only Gin fucking with his head. Because Sanji wouldn't allow anybody to mess with him, because Sanji wasn't the type to allow any type of abuse. Sanji would give as good as he got and then some. Zoro knew this personally. He knew it and it was what kept him sane.

It was on the ninth floor when the world came to a stop. At the sight of a slick and dark trail of blood that began from the top step and spread away from him to a corridor at the end of the hall, Zoro came to a halt. The hall was splattered with blood—the walls wore splashes and various hand prints. There were a couple of bodies lying within open doorways, but the trail didn't come from either. Not wanting to go any further but unable to stop himself, Zoro pulled himself onto the top step and began the slow walk alongside the grisly trail. The stench was strong—it made his stomach clench. His fists were tight balls at his sides. Every step that he made was heavy and slow, and he couldn't understand why he wasn't making the rush to find the end of it.

There were cannon-ball sized craters in the floor and walls—_tonfa _impacts. All of them were rimmed with blood. Halfway down the hall, Zoro paused to stare at the most vivid hand print on the wall. He reached up, fingers uncurling to press over the imprint. It matched the size of his own hand—only it was thinner, the fingers skinnier. When he lifted his hand away, his palm and fingers were wet with congealed warmth.

The walk was even slower. The closer he grew to the corridor, the more he dreaded seeing what he knew he was going to see. With everything around him, with the way the air felt so heavy—familiar—and so strong with the stench of death, Zoro knew that once he turned the corner of the corridor, he'd find whom he was looking for.

The sounds of battle drifted away. The utter silence became heavy and impenetrable. Every footstep was as heavy as the steel beams he'd worked with.

When he rounded the corner of the hall, stepping only once into the corridor, he found Sanji.

It was one of the more sickening deaths he'd seen so far. Zoro felt himself shut off at that moment, silently taking in the scene before him. He took in the sight of deliberately crushed hands, each one purpled with massive hemorrhaging, with bones crushed and upset in grotesque positions. Every finger had been deliberately broken, separated—nearly black. The wrists were in unnatural angles. The undersides had been shredded by what looked like angry slashes of a knife, revealing bone, muscle and fat. The long, lean legs that delivered both pain and pleasure when they squeezed tight were just as displaced as the mangled hands. Feet had been twisted and flattened, bones pushing out from purpled skin in disarray. Twin shins were torn, protruding—kneecaps were exposed, flattened just below the thigh. Angry knife slashes revealed muscle and fat, much of which spilt onto the floor in an ugly mess.

There was more—so much more. It was as if Gin had purposefully disabled Sanji's ability to fight and tore into him with a knife just to torture. The angry slashes were hateful—deliberately tormenting. At that moment, seeing how flayed Sanji's body was made Zoro believe that Gin had been drawn out his death for his own sick pleasure.

Zoro's eyes drew up to Sanji's face—his entire upper and lower torso was completely destroyed, as much as his legs and hands were. Zoro didn't want to see it—he could already tell, the edges of his vision catching the displayed inner organs, the stench of broken innards that made the entire air thick and rotten. He didn't want to see the clothing that had been slashed away to allow this display. He didn't want to see the mangling of genitals. He didn't want to see the uncoiled ropes of intestines that had been slashed. Instead, he focused only on Sanji's face—seeing bruises and swelling...the very least of hideous injury.

Sanji's blond hair was dark with blood and bits of his own gore. His eyes were wide open—a dry blue that looked unnatural and eerie.

For a moment, Zoro stared into those unblinking eyes and wondered if Sanji could still see him.

He _failed_, he realized. Taking too long at the curio shop, arguing with Robin. Allowing the woman to take his hands and speak nonsense while Gin was busy flaying Sanji alive. It was at that moment that Zoro believed Gin when he'd said Sanji had screamed for him. A death as torturous, as hideous as this was—pride would have been the least of the blond's thoughts.

A massive wave of guilt, of grief slammed into him, as heavy as a human body. Zoro slumped against the wall, hands flattening against it as his legs refused to support him any longer. Slowly sinking to the floor, he lowered his head, releasing a low keening sound that seemed to echo throughout the entire building story.

-

Hours later, Gin lifted his head. One of the _tonfas _rested against his shoulder, dry and flaked with blood. He was victorious—sitting cross-legged within the middle of Sanji's apartment, contemplating the darkness. Morning was drawing near, the sun's rays faint in the distance. The entire building was rank with death—but his mission was complete.

Three souls with one mutilated corpse walked away from the carnage—but it was all right. Gin had met his quota. He wasn't interested in revenge or some sort of rivalry; he wasn't interested in pursuit. They were three lucky souls that should have been thankful he was lenient in that matter.

He exhaled slowly, feeling injuries slowly heal and the revealing heat of his benefactor's presence at his back.

"_What_?" he croaked crankily.

"You may go, now. You've fulfilled your duties."

He rose slowly, shaking out the kinks in his legs. His face felt heavy with exhaustion—but he never slept. He didn't have to. He was overwhelmed with a sense of regret, seeing that he had an eternity to spend wandering the world, fulfilling his benefactor's requests. An eternity...and he'd already killed one of his possessions. But there were others...their souls called to him throughout the East Coast and in Europe, readily accessible now that he was free from that wretched doll. And in years ahead, he would be reunited with the ones that returned to him.

He cracked a half-smile. The thought of what he'd do to them delighted him. Then he scowled down at the face that watched him closely. He was punished with his last venture for allowing the witch Kureha to slay his physical body; his benefactor had kept him contained in her own doll for an understanding of what she could do to him if he failed her again. The only real reason he was allowed out, he figured, was that it was time for her to feed again. Feasting on human feelings in times of massive emotional stress and turmoil was how this particular demon lived. Gin's role in keeping her happy and keeping him strong and free was to torture, kill and raise enough stress in slaughter for her to be fed. It was something that he was able to do.

"I will find you when I need you. There's no need for you to hang around here."

"I...almost didn't recognize you."

"I'm sorry." Within a blink of his darkly shadowed eyes, he was looking down at a more familiar face and body. Though the lace-trimmed dress and dark eyes that had seen hundreds of years pass was horribly out of place for this time line, Gin would always feel more comfortable with his benefactor in her child-form. "Is this better?"

Gin nodded firmly, then asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes." Dark eyes gleamed. "I'd feasted well. Zoro's...was as delicious as they were back then. Even more so with the weight of his devotion to your possession. You've done well. I'll be full for decades."

With another half-smile, a feeling of success blooming within him with her satisfaction, Gin nodded and left the apartment.

Robin turned to the window and smiled, closing her eyes in gratification, rubbing her belly.


End file.
